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THE MELTING-POT 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

NEW YORK - BOSTON - CHICAGO 
ATLANTA - SAN FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN & CO., Limited 

LONDON - BOMBAY • CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. 

TORONTO 



THE MELTING-POT 



DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS 



BY 



ISRAEL ZANGWILL 

AUTHOR OF " CHILDREN OF THE GHETTO," " MERELY 
MARY ANN," ETC., ETC. 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
1909 

A2l rights reserved 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

Copynghi Entry 
CLASS *^ AXc. NO. 



^^cV 






Copyright, 1909, 
By the MACMILLAN COMPANY. 



Set up and electrotyped. Published September, 1909. 



NotfaoolJ ^tess 

J. S. Gushing Co. — lleiw ick & Smith Co. 

Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. 



THEODORE ROOSEVELT 

IN RESPECTFUL RECOGNITION OF HIS STRENUOUS STRUGGLE 

AGAINST THE FORCES THAT THREATEN TO SHIPWRECK 

THE GREAT REPUBLIC 

WHICH CARRIES MANKIND AND ITS FORTUNES, 

THIS PLAY IS, BY HIS KIND PERMISSION, 

CORDIALLY DEDICATED 



NOTE 

The rights of performing or translating this play, 
which is published simultaneously in England and 
America and has been performed in both countries, 
are strictly reserved by the author. The perform- 
ing rights for the United States and Canada have 
been exclusively acquired by Messrs. Liebler and Co., 
to whom, as to Mr. Hugh Ford, the Stage-producer, 
and to Mr. Walker Whiteside and the rest of the 
players, the author desires to express his indebted- 
ness for their artistic execution of his ideas. 



THE CAST 

[As first produced at the Columbia Theatre, Washington, on 
the fifth of October, 1908] 

3 David Quixano Walker Whiteside 

Mendel Quixano Henry Bergman 

_:> Baron Revendal John Blair 

^ Quincy Davenport, Jr Grant Stewart 

> Herr Pappelmeister Henry Vogel 

i Vera Revendal Chrystal Heme 

^ Baroness Revendal Leonora Von Ottinger 

Frau Quixano Louise Muldener 

Kathleen O'Reilly Mollie Revel 



ACT I 

[ The scene is laid in the living-room of the small home of the 
QuiXANOS in the Richmond or non-Jewish borough of 
New York, about five o'clock of a February afternoon. 
At centre back is a double street-door giving on a columned 
veranda in the Colonial st)'le. Nailed on the right- 
hand door-post gleams a Mezuzah, a small metal case, 
containing a Biblical passage. On the right of the door 
is a small hat-stand holding Mendel's ovei'coat, um- 
brella, etc. There are two windows, one on either side 
of the door, and tht'ee other exits, one down-stage on the 
left leading to the stairs and family bedrooms, two on the 
right, the upper leading to Kathleen's bedroom, and 
the lower to the kitchen. Over the street-door is pinned 
the Stars and Stripes. On the left wall, in the upper 
corner of which is a inusic-stand, are bookshelves of 
large mouldering Hebrew books, and over them is hung 
a Mizrach, or Hebrew picture, to show it is the East 
Wall. Other pictures round the room include Wagner, 
Columbus, Lincoln, and ''^ Jews at the Wailing Place.^'' 
Down-stage, about a yard from the left wall, stands 
David's roll-desk, open and displaying a medley of music, 
a quill pen, etc. On the tvall behind the desk hangs a 
book-rack with brightly bound English books. A grand 
piano stands at left centre back, holding a pile of music 
and one huge Hebrew tome. There is a table in the 
middle of the room covered with a re^ cloth and a litter 
of objects, music, and tiewspapers. The fireplace, in 
which a fire is bui-ning, occupies the centre of the right 

B I 



2 THE MELTING-POT 

wall, and by it stands an armchair on which lies another 
heavy mouldy Hebrew tome. The mantel holds a clock, 
two silver candlesticks, etc. A chiffonier stafids against 
the back wall on the right. There are a few cheap 
chairs. The whole effect is a curious blend of shab- 
biness, Americanism, Jeivishness, atid tnusic, all four 
being combined in the figure of Mendel Quixano, who, 
in a black skull-cap, a seedy velvet jacket, and red carpet- 
slippers, is discovered standing at the open street-door. 
He is an elderly music master with a fine Jewis^ face, 
pathetically furrowed by misfortunes, and a short 
grizzled beard.'\ 

MENDEL 

Good-bye, Johnny ! . . . And don't forget to prac- 
tise your scales. 

[Shutting door, shivers.] 

Ugh ! It'll snow again, I guess. 

[He yawns, heaves great sigh of relief, walks toward the 
table, and perceives a music-roll^ 

The chump ! He's forgotten his music ! 

[He picks it up and runs toward the window on the left, 
muttering furiously i\ 

Brainless, earless, thumb-fingered Gentile ! 

[Throwing open the window?^ 

Here, Johnny ! You can't practise your scales if 
you leave 'em here ! 

[He throws out the music-roll and shivers again at the cold 
as he shuts the window?^ 



THE MELTING-POT 3 

Ugh ! And I must go out to that miserable dancing 
class to scrape the rent together. 

\_He goes to the fire and warms his hands. '\ 

Ach Gott ! What a life ! What a life ! 

\_He drops dejectedly into the armchair. Finding himself 
sitting uncomfortably on the big book, he half rises and 
pushes it to the side of the seat. After a7i instant an 
irate Irish voice is heard fro7n behind the kitchen door.'\ 

KATHLEEN 
\Without?^ 

Divil take the butther ! I wouldn't put up with ye, 
not for a hundred dollars a week. 

MENDEL 
\Raising himself to listen, heaves great sigh?)^ 
Ach! Mother and Kathleen again ! 

KATHLEEN 
\_Still louder. '\ 

Pots and pans and plates and knives. Sure 'tis 
enough to make a saint chrazy. 

FRAU QUIXANO 

\_Equally loudly from kitchen^ 

Wos schreist dti ? Gott iti Hinimel, dieses America ! 

KATHLEEN 

\_Opening door of kitchoi toward the end of Frau Quixano's 
speech, but turning back, with her hand visible on the 
door.'\ 



4 THE MELTING-POT 

What's that ye're afther jabberin' about America? 
If ye don't like God's own counthry, sure ye can go 
back to your own Jerusalem, so ye can. 

MENDEL 

One's very servants are anti-Semites, 

KATHLEEN 

\_Banging door as she enters excitedly, carrying a folded white 
table-cloth. She is a pretty Irish maid of all work. '\ 

Bad luck to me, if iver I take sarvice again with 
liaythen Jews. 

\She perceives Mendel huddled up on the armchair, gives a 
little scream, and drops the cloth.'\ 

Och, I thought ye was out! 

MENDEL 
\_Rising.~\ 
And so you dared to be rude to my mother. 

KATHLEEN 
\_Atigrily, as she picks up the cloth.'\ 
She said I put mate on a butther-plate. 

MENDEL 
Well, you know that's against her religion. 

KATHLEEN 

But I didn't do nothing of the soort. I ounly put 
butther on a mate-plate. 



THE MELTING-POT 5 

MENDEL 

That's just as bad. What the Bible forbids — 

KATHLEEN 

\^Lays the cloth on a chair and vigorotisly clears off the litter 
0/ things on the table. ~\ 

Sure, the Pope himself couldn't remimber it all. 
Why don't ye have a sinsible religion.? 

MENDEL 
You are impertinent. Attend to your work. 
[Zr<f seats himself at the piano.'\ 

KATHLEEN 

And isn't it laying the Sabbath cloth I am.? 

\She bangs down articles from the table into their right 
places J\ 

MENDEL 
Don't answer me back. 

\_He begins to play softly. '\ 

KATHLEEN 

Faith, I must answer somebody back — and sorra a 
word of English she understands. I might as well 
talk to a tree. 

MENDEL 
You are not paid to talk, but to work. 
\_Playing on softly. '\ 



6 THE MELTING-POT 

KATHLEEN 
And who ca7t work with an ould woman nagglin' 
and grizzlin' — ? 

\^She removes the red table-doth.'\ 
Mate-plates, butther-plates, kosJier, trepha, sure I've 
smashed up folks' crockery and had less fuss made 
ouver it. 

MENDEL 
\Stops playrngj] 
Breaking crockery is one thing, and breaking a re- 
ligion another. Didn't you tell me when I engaged 
you that you had lived in other Jewish families.-' 

KATHLEEN 
\_Angrily.~\ 
And is it a liar ye'd make me out now ? I've lived 
wid clothiers and pawnbrokers and Vaudeville actors, 
but I niver shtruck a house where mate and butther 
couldn't be as paceable on the same plate as eggs 
and bacon — the most was that some wouldn't ate 
the bacon onless 'twas killed kosher. 

MENDEL 
\_TukIed.'] 
Ha! Ha! Ha! Hal Ha! 

KATHLEEN 
{^Furious, pauses with the white table-cloth half on. "l 
And who's ye laughin' at ? I give ye a week's 
notice. I won't be made fun of by Jews, no, begorra, 
that I won't. 

\_She pulls the cloth on viciously. "^ 



THE MELTING-POT 7 

MENDEL 
\Sobered, rising from the piano.'] 

Don't talk nonsense, Kathleen. Nobody is making 

fun of you. Have a little patience — you'll soon learn 

our ways. 

KATHLEEN 

\_More mildly.'] 

Whose ways, yours or the ould lady's or Mr. 
David's? To-night being yer Sabbath, yoitll be 
blowing out yer bedroom candle, though ye won't 
light it ; Mr. David'll light his and blow it out too ; 
and the misthress won't even touch the candleshtick. 
There's three religions in this house, not wan. 

MENDEL 
\_Conghs uneasily.] 

Hem ! Well, you learn the mistress's ways — that 
will be enough. 

KATHLEEN 

\_Goi7ig to mantelpiece^ 

But how can I understand her jabberin' and jib- 
berin' } — I'm not a monkey ! 

\_She takes up a silver candlestick.] 

Why doesn't she talk English like a Christian .-• 

MENDEL 
\_Irritated.] 

If you are going on like that, perhaps you had bet- 
ter not remain here. 



8 THE MELTING-FOr 

I^TITLEEN 
\_Blazing up, forgetting to take the second candlestick.'] 
And who's axin' ye to remain here ? Faith, I'll 
lave this blissid minit ! 

MENDEL 
\_Taken aback.] 
No, you can't do that. 

KATHLEEN 

And why can't I ? Ye can keep yer dirthy wages. 

\_She dumps down the candlestick violently on the table, and 
exit hysterically into her bedroom.] 

MENDEL 

\Sighing heavily.] 

She might have put on the other candlestick. 

\_Hegoes to mantel and takes it. A rat-tat-tat at street-door.] 

Who can that be ? 

{^Running to ELathleen's door, holding candlestick forget- 
fully low.] 

Kathleen ! There's a visitor ! 

KATHLEEN 
\_Angrily from within.] 
I'm not here ! 

MENDEL 
So long as you're in this house, you must do your 

work. 

[Kathleen's head emerges sulkily.] 



THE MELTING-POT 9 

KATHLEEN 

I tould ye I was lavin' at wanst. Open the door 
yerself. 

MENDEL 

I'm not dressed to receive visitors — it may be a 
new pupil 

\_He goes toward staircase, aiitomatically carrying off the 
candlestick which Kathleen has not caught sight of. 
Exit on the left.'\ 

KATHLEEN 

\_Moving tozvard the street-door.'\ 

The divil fly away wid me if iver I set foot again 
among haythen furriners — 

\She throws open the door angrily and then the outer door. 
Vera Revendal, a beautiful girl in furs and muff, 
with a touch of the exotic in her appearance, steps into 
the little vestibule.~\ 

VERA 

Is Mr. Quixano at home ? 

KATHLEEN 
\_Sulkily.'\ 
Which Mr. Ouixano .? 

VERA 
\_Surprised.~\ 
Are there two Mr. Quixanos ? 



lO THE MELTING-POT 

KATHLEEN 
{Tartly?^ 
Didn't I say there was ? 

VERA 

Then I want the one who plays. 

KATHLEEN 

There isn't a one who plays. 

VERA 

Oh, surely! 

KATHLEEN 

Ye're wrong entirely. They both plays. 

VERA 
\_Smiling^ 

Oh, dear! And I suppose they both play the 
violin. 

KATHLEEN 

Ye're wrong again. One plays the piano — ounly 
the young ginthleman plays the fiddle — Mr. David I 

VERA 
\_Eagerly.'\ 
Ah, Mr. David — that's the one I want to see. 

KATHLEEN 

He's out. 

\She abruptly shuts the doorJ] 



THE MELTING-POT II 

VERA 
\Stopping Us closing.'^ 
Don't shut the door ! 

KATHLEEN 
\_Snappify.'] 
More chance of seeing hira out there than in here ! 

VERA 

But I want to leave a message. 

KATHLEEN 

Then why don't ye come inside ? It's freezin' 
me to the bone. 

\_She sneezes.'] 

Atchoo ! 

VERA 
I'm sorry. 

[■5"/^^ comes in and closes the door.'] 

Will you please say Miss Revendal called from 
the Settlement, and we are anxiously awaiting his 
answer to the letter asking him to play for us on — 

KATHLEEN 

How can I tell him all that.-* I'm not here. 

VERA 

Eh? 



12 THE MELTING-POT 

KATHLEEN 

I'm lavin' — just as soon as I've packed me thrunk. 

VERA 

Then I must write the message — can I write at 
this desk ? 

KATHLEEN 
If the ould woman don't come in and shpy you. 

VERA 
What old woman ? 

KATHLEEN 

Ould Mr. Quixano's mother — she wears a black 
wig, she's that houly. 

VERA 

\Be'wildered.'\ 

What } . . . But why should she mind my writ- 
ing? 

KATHLEEN 

Look at the clock. 

[Vera looks at the clock, more puzzled than everJ] 
If ye're not quick, it'll be Shabbos. 

VERA 

Be what .'' 



THE MELTING-POT 13 

KATHLEEN 
\_Holds tip hands of horror.'\ 

Ye don't know what Shabbos is ! A Jewess not 
know her own Sunday ! 

VERA 
[ Outraged^ 
I, a Jewess ! How dare you ? 

KATHLEEN 
\_Flustered^ 

Axin' your pardon, miss, but ye looked a bit 

f urrin and I — 

VERA 

\_Frozen^ 

I am a Russian. 

\_Slotvly and dazedly. '\ 

Do I understand that Mr. Ouixano is a Jew .'' 

KATHLEEN 

Two Jews, miss. Both of 'em. 

VERA 

Oh, but it is impossible. 

\_Dazedly to hersel/.'\ 
He had such charming manners. 
\_Aloud again. ~\ 

You seem to think everybody Jewish. Are you 
sure Mr. Quixano is not Spanish .-" — the name sounds 
Spanish. 



14 THE MELTING-POT 

KATHLEEN 

Shpanish ! 

\_She picks up the old Hebrew book on the armchair. '\ 

Look at the ould lady's book. Is that Shpanish? 

\She points to the Mizrach.'] 

And that houly picture that the ould lady says her 
paternoster to ! Is that Shpanish? And that houly 
table-cloth with the houly silver candle — 

\_Cry of sudden astonishment.'^ 

Why, I've ounly put — 

\She looks toward mantel and titters a great cry of alarm as 
she drops the Hebrew book on the floor ?^ 

Why, Where's the other candleshtick! Mother in 
hivin, they'll say I shtole the candleshtick! 

\_Ferceiving that Vera is dazedly moving toward door.'\ 

Beggin' your pardon, miss, — 

\_She is about to move a chair toivard the desk.'\ 

VERA 
Thank you, I've changed my mind. 

KATHLEEN 

That's more than I'll do. 

VERA 

[Hand on door."] 
Don't say I called at all. 



THE MELTING-POT 1 5 

KATHLEEN 

Plaze yerself. Phwat name did ye say ? 

[Mendel enters hastily from his bedroom, completely trans- 
mogrified, minus the skull-cap, with a Prince Albert coat, 
and boots instead of slippers, so that his appearance is 
gentlemanly. Kathleen begins to search quietly and 
tmostentatiously in the table-drawers, the chiffonier, etc., 
etc., for the candlestick.'] 

MENDEL 
I am sorry if I have kept you waiting — 
\_IIe rubs his hands importantly.'] 

You see I have so many pupils already. Won't you 

sit down? 

\_He indicates a chair.'] 

VERA 

\_Flushing, embarrassed, releasing her hold of the door 

handled] 

Thank you — I — I — ■! didn't come about piano- 
forte lessons. 

MENDEL 
\_Sighing in disappointment?^ 

Ach! 

VERA 

In fact I — er — it wasn't you I wanted at all — I 

was just going. 

MENDEL 

{^Politely:] 

Perhaps I can direct you to the house you are 
lookinor for. 



l6'^ THE MELTING-POT 

VERA 
Thank you, I won't trouble you. 

\_She turns fdward the door again.'\ 

MENDEL 
Allow me ! 

\_He opens the door for herJ] 

VERA 
\_Hesitaiing, struck by his manners, struggling with her anti- 
Jewish prejudice^ 

It — it — was your son I wanted. 

MENDEL 
\His face lighting upj] 

You mean my nephew, David. Yes, he gives 

violin lessons. 

\_IIe closes the door.'\ 

VERA 
Oh, is he your nephew .? 

MENDEL 
I am sorry he is out — he, too, has so many pupils, 
though at the moment he is only at the Crippled 
Children's Home — playing to them. 

VERA 

How lovely of him ! 

\Touched and deciding to conquer her prejudice. '\ 

But that's just what / came about — I mean we'd 
like him to play again at our Settlement. Please ask 
him why he hasn't answered Miss Andrews's letter. 



THE MELTING-POT 1 7 

MENDEL 
\_Astonished?^ 
He hasn't answered your letter ? 

VERA 

Oh, I'm not Miss Andrews ; I'm only her assist- 
ant. 

MENDEL 

I see — Kathleen, whatever are you doing under 
the table ? 

[Kathleen, hi her huntii.g around for the candlestick, is 
notv stooping and lifting up the table-cloth.~\ 

KATHLEEN 

Sure. the fiend has witched away the candleshtick. 

MENDEL 

^^Embarrassed. ] 

The candlestick ? Oh — I — I think you'll find it 
in my bedroom. 

KATHLEEN 

Wisha, now ! 

\She goes into his bedroom^ 

MENDEL 
[ Turning apologetically to Vera.] 

I beg your pardon, Miss Andrews, I mean Miss — • 

er — 

VERA 

Revendal. 

c 



1 8 THE MELTING-POT 

MENDEL 
\Slightly more interested^ 

Revendal ? Then you must be the Miss Revendal 
David told me about ! 

VERA 

\_Blushi}ig^ 

Why, he has only seen me once — the time he 
played at our Roof-Garden Concert. 

MENDEL 

Yes, but he was so impressed by the way you 
handled those new immigrants — the Spirit of the 
Settlement, he called you. 

VERA 

\_Modestly.'\ 

Ah, no — Miss Andrews is that. And you will tell 
him to answer her letter at once, won't you, because 
there's only a week now to our Concert. 

\_A gust of ivind shakes the windows. She smiles.'] 
Naturally it will not be on the Roof Garden. 

, MENDEL 

\_Half to himself.'] 

Fancy David not saying a word about it to me! 
Are you sure the letter was mailed } 



THE MELTING-POT 1 9 

VERA 

I mailed it myself — a week ago. And even in 

New York — 

\_She smiles. Re-enter Kathleen 7Vith the recovered candle- 
stick.'] 

KATHLEEN 

Bedad, ye're as great a shleep-walker as Mr. 
David ! 

\_She places the candlestick on the table and ?noves toward 
her bedroom.] 

MENDEL 
Kathleen ! 

KATHLEEN 
\_Pursuing her walk without turning.] 

I'm not here ! 

MENDEL 

Did you take in a letter for Mr. David about a week 

ago? 

\Smili71g at Miss Revendal.] 

He doesn't get many, you see. 

KATHLEEN 
[ Tur7ti7tg.] 

A letter 1 Sure, I took in ounly a postcard from 
Miss Johnson, telling him she — 

VERA 

And you don't remember a letter — a large letter 
■ — last Saturday — with the seal of our Settlement .'' 



20 THE MELTING-POT 

KATHLEEN 

Last Saturday wid a seal, is it ? Sure, how could I 
forgit it ? 

MENDEL 

Then you did take it in ? 

KATHLEEN 

Ye're wrong entirely. 'Twas the misthress took 
it in. 

MENDEL 
l^To Vera.] 
I am sorry the boy has been so rude. 

KATHLEEN 

But the misthress didn't give it him at wanst — she 
hid it away bekaz it was Shabbos. 

MENDEL 

Oh, dear — and she has forgotten to give it to him. 
Excuse me. 

\_He makes a hurried exit to the kitchenJ] 

KATHLEEN 
And excuse me — I've me thrunk to pack. 

\_She goes toward her bedroom, pattses at the doorJ] 

And ye'll witness I don't pack the candleshtick. 

\_Emphatic exit.~\ 



THE MELTING-POT 21 

VERA 
\Still dazed.'\ 

A Jew ! That wonderful boy a Jew ! . . . But 
then so was David the shepherd-youth with his harp 
and his psalms, the sweet singer in Israel. 

[She surveys the ivom aiid its contents with interest. The 
windows rattle once or twice in the rising wind. The 
light gets g7-adually less. She picks ttp the huge Hebrew 
tome on the piano and puts it down with a slight smile as 
if overwhelmed by the weight of alien antiquity. Then 
she goes over to the desk and picks up the printed fnusic.'\ 

Mendelssohn's Concerto, Tartini's Sonata in G 
Minor, Bach's Chaconne, ... 

\_She looks up at the book-}-ack.~\ 

"History of the American Commonwealth," "Cy- 
clopaedia of History," "History of the Jews" — he 
seems very fond of history. Ah, there's Shelley and 

Tennyson. 

[ With surprise."] 

Nietzsche next to the Bible .-• No Russian books 

apparently — 

[Re-enter Mendel triumphantly with a large sealed letter^ 

MENDEL 
Here it is ! As it came on Saturday, my mother 
was afraid David would open it ! 

VERA 
[S^niling.] 
But what can you do with a letter except open it } 
Any more than with an oyster .■' 



22 THE MELTING-POT 

MENDEL 
\_Stniling as he puts the letter on David's desk^ 

To a pious Jew letters and oysters are alike for- 
bidden — at least letters may not be opened on our 

day of rest. 

VERA 

I'm sure I couldn't rest till I'd opened mine. 

\_Enter from the kitchen Frau Quixano, defending herself 
with excited gesticulation. She is ati old lady with a 
black wig, but her appearance is dignified, venerable 
even, in no way comic. She speaks Yiddish exclusively, 
that being largely the language of the Russian Pale.'\ 

FRAU QUIXANO 
Obber ich hob gesogt sn Kathleen — 

MENDEL 
\frurning and going to her.'\ 

Yes, yes, mother, that's all right now. 

FRAU QUIXANO 

[/;/ horror, perceiving her Hebrew book on the floor, where 

Kathleen has dropped it.] 

Meiri Bnch I 

\_She picks it up and kisses it piously.'] 

MENDEL 
[^Presses her into her fireside chair.] 
RitJiig, ruhig, Mutter! 

[To Vera.] 

She understands barely a word of English — she 
won't disturb us. 



THE MELTING-POT 23 

VERA 
Oh, but I must be going — I was so long finding 
the house, and look ! it has begun to snow ! 
\_They both turn their heads and look at the falling sjiow.'\ 

MENDEL 

All the more reason to wait for David — it may 
leave off. He can't be long now. Do sit down. 
\_H'e offers a chair.'] 

FRAU QUIXANO 
\_Looking round suspiciously.'] 
Was will die SJiiksaJi ? 

VERA 
What does your mother say? 

MENDEL 
\_Half-smiling. ] 
Oh, only asking what your heathen ladyship desires. 

VERA 

Tell her I hope she is well. 

MENDEL 
Das Frdiilein Iiojft dass es gcht gut — 

FRAU QUIX.\NO 

\Shrugging her shoulders in despairing astofiishment.] 

Gut ? Und ivie soil es gut gehen — in Amerika I 

\_She takes out her spectacles, and begins slowly polishing and 

adjusting them.] 



24 THE MELTING-POT 

VERA 

I understood that last word. 

MENDEL 
She asks how can anything possibly go well in 
America! 

VERA 

Ah, she doesn't like America. 

MENDEL 

\Half-smiling.'\ 

Her favourite exclamation is ''A Klog zu Colmnbes- 

sen ! " 

VERA 

What does that mean ? 

MENDEL 

Cursed be Columbus ! 

VERA 

\^Laug/iingfy.'] 

Poor Columbus! I suppose she's just come over. 

MENDEL 

Oh, no, it must be ten years since I sent for her. 

VERA 

Really ! But your nephew was born here ? 

MENDEL 

No, he's Russian too. But please sit down, you 
had better get his answer at once. 
[Vera sifs.'] 



THE MELTING-POT 25 

VERA 
I suppose _j/^// taught him music. 

MENDEL 

I? I can't play the violin. He is self-taught. In 

the Russian Pale he was a wonder-child. Poor David ! 

He always looked forward to coming to America; he 

imagined I was a famous musician over here. He 

found me conductor in a cheap theatre — a converted 

beer-hall. 

VERA 

Was he very disappointed .-" 

MENDEL 

Disappointed! He was enchanted. He is crazy 
about America. 

VERA 

Ah, he doesn't curse Columbus. 

MENDEL 

My mother came with her life behind her: David 
with his life before him. Poor boy ! 

VERA 
Why do you say poor boy."" 

MENDEL 

What is there before him here but a terrible strug- 
gle for life .'' If he doesn't curse Columbus, he'll curse 
fate. Music-lessons and dance-halls, beer-halls and 



26 THE MELTING-POT 

weddings — every hope and ambition will be ground 
out of him, and he will die obscure and unknown. 
\His head sinks on his breast. Frau Quixano is heard fainfly 
sobbing over her book. The sobbing continues through- 
out the seene.^ 

VERA 
\_Half rising.'] 
You have made your mother cry. 

MENDEL 

Oh, no — she understood nothing. She always 
cries on the eve of the Sabbath. 

VERA 
[Mystified, sinking back into her chair.] 
Always cries.'' Why? 

MENDEL 
[Embarrassed.'] 
Oh, well, a Christian wouldn't understand — 

VERA 

Yes I could — do tell me ! 

MENDEL 

She knows that in this great grinding America, 
David and I must go out to earn our bread on Sabbath 
as on week-days. She never says a word to us but 
her heart is full of tears. 

VERA 

Poor old woman. It was wrong of us to ask your 
nephew to play at the Settlement for nothing. 



THE MELTING-POT 27 

MENDEL » 

\Rising fiercely. '\ 

If you offer him a fee, he shall not play. Did you 
think I was begging of you? 

VERA 

I beg your pardon — 

\Smiles^ 
There, / am begging of yoit. Sit down, please. 

MENDEL 
[ Walking away to piano. '\ 

I ought not to have burdened you with our troub- 
les — you are too young. 

VERA 
\_Pathetically^ 
I young } If you only knew how old I am ! 

MENDEL 

You? 

VERA 

■ I left my youth in Russia — eternities ago. 

MENDEL 

You know our Russia ! 

\_He goes over to her and sits down.'] 



28 THE MELTING-POT 

VERA 

Can't you see I'm a Russian, too ? 

\With a faint tremulous smile.'\ 

I might even have been a Siberian had I stayed. 
But I escaped from my gaolers. 

MENDEL 

You were a Revolutionist ! 

VERA 
Who can live in Russia and not be ? So you see 
trouble and I are not such strangers. 

MENDEL 

Who would have thought it to look at you .<* Sibe- 
ria, gaolers, revolutions ! 

\_Rtsing.'\ 
What terrible things life holds ! 

VERA 

Yes, even in free America. 

[Frau Quixano's sobbing grows slightly louder."] 

MENDEL 
That Settlement work must be full of tragedies. 

VERA 

Sometimes one sees nothing but the tragedy of 

things. 

\_Looking toward the window.] 

The snow is getting thicker. How pitilessly it 
falls — like fate. 



THE MELTING-POT 29 

MENDEL 

\_Fonowing her gaze. "^ 

Yes, rcy and inexorable. 

\The faint sobbing of Y'R.P^5 Quixano over her book, which 
has been heard throughout the scene as a sort of musical 
accompanime7it, has helped to work it up to a mood of 
intense sadness, intensified by the growing dusk, so that 
as the tivo notv gaze at the falling snoiv, the atmosphere 
seems overbrooded zvith melancholy. There is a mo- 
metit or tivo without dialogue, given over to the sobbing 
ofFRAU Quixano, the roar of the wind shaking the win- 
dows, the qiiick falling of the snow. Suddenly a happy 
voice singing ''My Country 'tis of Thee " is heard from 

without.~\ 

FRAU QUIXANO 

\_Pricking up her ears, joyously. '\ 

Do ist Dovidel ! 

MENDEL 

That's David ! 

\_He springs up."] 



Ah! 



VERA 
\_Murmurs in relief. "^ 



\_The whole attnosphere is changed to one of joyous expectation. 
David is seen and heard passing the left 7vindow, still 
singing the national hymn, but it breaks off abruptly as 
he throws open the door and appears on the threshold 
a buoyant snow- covered figure in a cloak and a broad- 
brimmed hat, canying a violin case. He is a sunny, 
handsome youth of the finest Russo-Jewish type. He 
speaks with a slight German accent.'] 



30 THE MELTING-POT 

DAVID 

Isn't it a beautiful world, uncle ? 

\He closes the inner door.'] 

Snow, the divine white snow — 

\_Perceiving the visitor with ajnaze.] 

Miss R^evendal here ! 

[He removes his hat and looks at her with boyish reverence 
and wonder.] 

VERA 

\_Smilingr\ 

Don't look so surprised — I haven't fallen from 
heaven Hke the snow. Take off your wet things. 

DAVID 

Oh, it's nothing ; it's dry snow. 

\_He lays dowtt his violin case and brushes off the stiow froin 
his cloak, which Mendel takes frotn him and hangs on 
the rack, all without interrupting the dialogue.] 

If I had only known you were waiting — 

VERA 

I am glad you didn't — I wouldn't have had those 
poor little cripples cheated out of a moment of your 
music. 

DAVID 

Uncle has told you .-' Ah, it was bully ! You 
should have seen the cripples waltzing with their 
crutches ! 



THE MELTING-POr 3 1 

\_He has moved toward the old woman, and zvhile he holds 
otie hand to the blaze now pats her cheek with the other 
in greeting., to which she responds with a loving smile ere 
she settles contentedly to slumber over her book.'] 

Es xvar grossartig, Munime. Even the paralysed 

danced. 

MENDEL 

Don't exaggerate, David. 

DAVID 

Exaggerate, uncle ! Why, if they hadn't the use of 
their legs, their arms danced on the counterpane ; 
if their arms couldn't dance, their hands danced from 
the wrist; and if their hands couldn't dance, they 
danced with their fingers ; and if their fingers couldn't 
dance, their heads danced ; and if their heads were 
paralysed, why, their eyes danced — God never curses 
so utterly but you've something left to dance with ! 

\_He moves toward his desk.] 

VERA 
\_Infected with his gaiety.] 
You'll tell us next the beds danced. 

DAVID 

So they did — they shook their legs like mad ! 

VERA 
Oh, why wasn't I there? 

[^His eyes meet hers at the thought 0/ her presence.] 



32 THE MELTING-POT 

DAVID 

Dear little cripples, I felt as if I could play them all 
straight again with the love and joy jumping out of 
this old fiddle. 

\_He lays his hand caressingly on the violin.'] 

MENDEL 
\_Gloo}nily.'\ 
But in reality you left them as crooked as ever. 

DAVID 

No, I didn't. 

\_IIe caresses the back of his uncle's head in affectionate 
rebuke.'] 

I couldn't play their bones straight, but I played 
their brains straight. And \mnc\\-brai}is are worse 
than hMXich-backs. . . . 

[^Suddenly perceiving his letter on the desk.] 

A letter for me! 

\He takes it with boyish eagerness, then hesitates to open it.] 

VERA 

\Smiling.] 
Oh, you may open it! 

DAVID 
[ Wistfully.] 
May I .? 



THE MELTING-POT 33 

VERA 
\_Smiling.'\ 
Yes, and quick — or it'll be SJiabbos ! 

[David looks up at her in wonder. '\ 

MENDEL 
\_Smiling^ 
You read your letter ! 

DAVID 
\He opens it eagerly, then smiles broadly with pleasure.'] 

Oh, Miss Revendal ! Isn't that great ! To play 
again at your Settlement. I am getting famous. 

VERA 

But we can't offer you a fee. 

MENDEL 
[ Quickly sotto voce to Vera.] 

Thank you! 

DAVID 

A fee ! I'd pay a fee to see all those happy immi- 
grants you gather together, — Dutchmen and Greeks, 
Poles and Norwegians, Swiss and Armenians. If 
you only had Jews, ib would be as good as going to 
Ellis Island. 

VERA 

\_Smiling. ] 

What a strange taste ! Who on earth wants to go 
to Ellis Island .'' 

D 



34 THE MELTING-POT 

DAVID 

Oh, I love going to Ellis Island to watch the ships 
coming in from Europe, and to think that all those 
weary, sea-tossed wanderers are feeling what / felt 
when America first stretched out her great mother- 
hand to me! 

VERA 

{.Softly.-\ 
Were you very happy ? 

DAVID 

It was heaven. You must remember that all my 
life I had heard of America — everybody in our town 
had friends there or was going there or got money 
orders from there. The earliest game I played at 
was selling off my toy furniture and setting up in 
America. All my life America was waiting, beckon- 
ing, shining — the place where God v\^ould wipe away 
tears from off all faces. 

\_He ends in a half-sob.'\ 

MENDEL 
\Rises, as in terror.'] 
Now, now, David, don't get excited. 
[He approaches hitn.'] 

DAVID 

To think that the same great torch of liberty which 
threw its light across all the broad seas and lands 
into my little garret in Russia, is shining also for 



THE MELTIATG-POT 35 

all those other weeping miUions of Europe, shining 
wherever men hunger and are oppressed — 

MENDEL 
[^SoothingiyJ] 
Yes, yes, David. 

\Laying hand on his shoulder^ 
Now sit down and — 

DAVID 

\Unheeding.'\ 

Shining over the starving villages of Italy and Ire- 
land, over the swarming stony cities of Poland and 
Gahcia, over the ruined farms of Roumania, over the 
shambles of Russia — 

MENDEL 
\Pleadingly.'\ 
David ! 

DAVID 

Oh, Miss Revendal, when I look at our Statue of 
Liberty, I just seem to hear the voice of America 
crying : " Come unto me all ye that labour and are 
heavy laden and I will give you rest — rest — " 

\_He is now almost sobbing.~\ 

MENDEL 
Don't talk any more — you know it is bad for you. 



36 THE MELTING-POT 

DAVID 

But Miss Revendal asked — and I want to explain 
to her what America means to me. 

MENDEL 
You can explain it in your American symphony. 

VERA 
\_Eagerly. To David.] 
You compose } 

DAVID 
\_Emba7-rassed.'\ 

Oh, uncle, why did you talk of — ? uncle always — 
my music is so thin and tinkhng. When I am writing 
my American symphony, it seems like thunder crash- 
ing through a forest full of bird songs. But next 
day — oh, next day ! 

\_He laughs dolefully and turns awayJ] 

VERA 
So your music finds inspiration in America .? 

DAVID 

Yes — in the seething of the Crucible. 

VERA 

The Crucible .'' I don't understand ! 



THE MELTING-POT 37 

DAVID 

Not understand ! You, the Spirit of the Settle- 
ment ! 

\_He rises and crosses to her and leans over the table, facing 

her.^ 

Not understand that America is God's Crucible, the 
great Melting-Pot where all the races of Europe are 
melting and re-forming ! Here you stand, good folk, 
think I, when I see them at Ellis Island, here you stand 

\_Graphically illustrating it on the table. '\ 

in your fifty groups, with your fifty languages and 
histories, and your fifty blood hatreds and rivalries. 
But you won't be long like that, brothers, for these 
are the fires of God you've come to — these are the 
fires of God. A fig for your feuds and vendettas ! 
Germans and Frenchmen, Irishmen and Englishmen, 
Jews and Russians — into the Crucible with you all ! 
God is making the American. 

MENDEL 

I should have thought the American was made 
already — eighty millions of him. 

DAVID 
Eighty millions ! 

\_He smiles toward Vera in good-humoured derision^ 

Eighty millions ! Over a continent ! Why, that 
cockleshell of a Britain has forty millions ! No, uncle, 
the real American has not yet arrived. He is only in 



38 THE MELTING-POT 

the Crucible, I tell you — he will be the fusion of all 
races, the coming superman. Ah, what a glorious 
Finale for my symphony — if I can only write it. 

VERA 

But you have written some of it already ! May I 
not see it ? 

DAVID 

\_Relapsing into boyish shyness7\ 

No, if you please, don't ask — 

\^He moves over to his desk and nervously shuts it down and 
turns the keys of drawers as though protecting his Ms.^ 

VERA 
Won't you give a bit of it at our Concert 1 

DAVID 

Oh, it needs an orchestra. 

VERA 
But you at the violin and I at the piano — 

MENDEL 

You didn't tell me you played. Miss Revendal ! 

VERA 
I told you less commonplace things. 

DAVID 

Miss Revendal plays quite like a professional. 



THE MELTING-POT 39 

VERA 

\Smiling.'\ 

I don't feel so complimented as you expect. You 
see I did have a professional training. 

MENDEL 
\Smiling.'\ 
And I thought you came to me for lessons ! 

[David lai/ghs.'] 

VERA 

\_Smiling.'\ 
No, I went to Petersburg — 

DAVID 
\Dazed,'\ 
To Petersburg — 'i 

VERA 

\_Smili}ig^ 

Naturally. To the Conservatoire. There wasn't 
much music to be had at Kishineff, a town where — 

DAVID 

Kishineff ! 

\_H'e begins to tremble.'^ 

VERA 
\_Still smiling.'] 
My birthplace. 



40 THE MELTING-POT 

MENDEL 
[ Coming toward him, protectingly.'\ 
Calm yourself, David. 

DAVID 

Yes, yes — so you are a Russian ! 

\_He shudders violently, staggers?\ 

VERA 
\jllarmed^ 
You are ill ! 

DAVID 

It is nothing, I — not much rnusic at Kishineff ! 
No, only the Death-March ! . . . Mother ! Father ! 
Ah — cowards, murderers ! And you ! 

\_He shakes his fist at the air.^ 

You, looking on with your cold butcher's face ! 
O God ! O God ! 

l_JIe bursts into hysterical sobs and runs, shamefacedly, 
throtigh the door to his room^ 

VERA 
• \_Wildly.'\ 
What have I said ? What have I done ? 

MENDEL 

Oh, I was afraid of this, I was afraid of this. 



THE MELTING-POT 4I 

FRAU QUIXANO 

[ Who has fallen asleep ove?- her book, wakes as if with a 
sense of the horror and gazes dazedly around, addi?ig to 
the thrillingness of the moment.'\ 

Dovidel ! Wo ist Dovidel ! Mir dacht sack — 

MENDEL 
\ Pressing her back to her slumbers. '\ 
Du trdumst, Mutter! Schlaf ! 

\_She sinks back to sleep. '\ 

VERA 
[/« hoarse whisper."] 
His father and mother were massacred ? 

MENDEL 
[/« same tense tone.'} 

Before his eyes ^ father, mother, sisters, down to 
the youngest babe, whose skull was battered in by a 
hooHgan's heel. 

VERA 

How did /le escape ? 

MENDEL 

He was shot in the shoulder, and fell unconscious. 
As he wasn't a girl, the hooligans left him for dead 
and hurried to fresh sport. 

VERA 

Terrible ! Terrible ! 

[^Almost in tears.] 



42 THE MELTING-POT 

MENDEL 

\_Shrugging shoulders, hopelessly.'] 

It is only Jewish history ! . . . David belongs to 
the species of pogrom orphan — they arrive in the 
States by almost every ship. 

VERA 

Poor boy ! Poor boy ! And he looked so happy ! 

\_She half sobs.] 

MENDEL 
So he is most of the time — a sunbeam took human 
shape when he was born. But naturally that dread- 
ful scene left a scar on his brain, as the bullet left a 
scar on his shoulder, and he is always liable to see red 
when Kishineff is mentioned. 

VERA 

I will never mention my miserable birthplace to 
him again. 

MENDEL 

But you see every few months the newspapers tell 
us of another /ci^r^//^, and then he screams out against 
what he calls that butcher's face, so that I tremble for 
his reason. I tremble even when I see him writing 
that crazy music about America, for it only means 
he is brooding over the difference between America 
and Russia. 

VERA 

But perhaps — perhaps — all the terrible memory 
will pass peacefully away in his music. 



THE MELTING-POT 43 



MENDEL 

There will always be the scar on his shoulder to 
remind him — whenever the wound twinges, it brings 
up these terrible faces and visions. 

VERA 

Is it on his right shoulder ? 

MENDEL 

No — on his left. For a violinist that is even 
worse. 

VERA 

Ah, of course — the weight and the fingering. 
\Subconsciously placing and fingering an imaginary violin^ 

MENDEL 

That is why I fear so for his future — he will 
never be strong enough for the feats of bravura that 
the public demands. 

VERA 

The wild beasts ! I feel more ashamed of my 
country than ever. But there's his symphony. 

MENDEL 

And who will look at that amateurish stuff ? He 
knows so little of harmony and counterpoint — he 
breaks all the rules. I've tried to give him a few 
pointers — but he ought to have gone to Germany. 

VERA 

Perhaps it's not too late. 



44 THE MELTING-POT 

MENDEL 
\^Passionately.'\ 

Ah, if you and your friends could help him ! See 
— I'm begging after all. But it's not for myself. 

VERA 

My father loves music. Perhaps he — but no ! he 
lives in Kishineff. But I will think — there are 
people here — I will write to you. 

MENDEL 
\_Fenfently^ 
Thank you ! Thank you ! 

VERA 

Now you must go to him. Good-bye. Tell him 
I count upon him for the Concert. 

MENDEL 
How good you are ! 

\^He follows her to the street-door. '\ 

VERA 

\_At door.] 

Say good-bye for me to your mother — she seems 
asleep. 

MENDEL 
{Opening outer door.'\ 
I am sorry it is snowing so. 



THE MELTING-POT 45 

VERA 
We Russians are used to it. 

[^Smiling, ai exii.'\ 

Good-bye — let us hope your David will turn out a 
Rubinstein. 

MENDEL 
\_C losing the doors softly.'\ 

I never thought a Russian Christian could be so 
human. 

\_He looks at the clock.~\ 

Gott in Himmel — my dancing class ! 

\He hurries into the overcoat hanging on the hat-rack. Re- 
enter David, having composed himself, but still some- 
what dazed.~\ 

DAVID 

She is gone .-' Oh, but I have driven her away by 
my craziness. Is she very angry ^ 

MENDEL 

Quite the contrary — she expects you at the Con- 
cert, and what is more — 

DAVID 
\_Ecstatically.'\ 

And she understood ! She understood my Cru- 
cible of God ! Oh, uncle, you don't know what it 
means to me to have somebody who understands me. 
Even you have never understood — 



46 THE MELTING-POT 

MENDEL 
[ Wounded. ] 

Nonsense ! How can Miss Revendal understand 
you better than your own uncle ? 

DAVID 
\_Mystically exalted.'\ 
I can't explain — I feel it. 

MENDEL 

Of course she's interested in your music, thank 
Heaven ! But what true understanding can there 
be between a Russian Jew and a Russian Christian ? 

DAVID 

What understanding ? Aren't we both Americans ? 

MENDEL 

Well, I haven't time to discuss it now. 

\_He winds his nwffler round his throat.'\ 
DAVID 

Why, where are you going.? 

MENDEL 
\_Jronically.'\ 
Where should I be going — in the snow — on the 
eve of the Sabbath 1 Suppose we say to synagogue ! 

DAVID 

Oh, uncle — how you always seem to hanker after 
those old things ! 



THE MELTING-POT 47 

MENDEL 

[Tartly. '\ 
Nonsense ! 

\_He takes his wnbreUa fro7n the stand,'] 

I don't like to see our people going to pieces, that's 
all. 

DAVID 

Then why did you come to America ? Why didn't 
you work for a Jewish land? 

MENDEL 

I can't argue now. There's a pack of giggling 
schoolgirls waiting to waltz. 

DAVID 

The fresh romping young things ! Think of their 
happiness ! I should love to play for them. 

MENDEL 

[Sarcasticatty.'] 

I can see you are yourself again. 

[ffe opens the street-door — turns back.] 

What about your own lesson ? Can't we go to- 
gether .'' 

DAVID 

I must first write down what is singing in my soul 
— oh, uncle, it seems as if I knew suddenly what was 
wanting in my music ! 



48 THE MELTING-POT 

MENDEL 

Well, don't forget what is wanting in the house ! 
The rent isn't paid yet. 

\_Exit through street-door. As he goes out, he touches and 
kisses the Mezuzah on the door-post, with a subcon- 
sciously antagonistic revival of i-eligious impulse. David 
opens his desk, takes out a pile of musical tnanuscript, 
sprawls over his chair and, lunnming to himself, scribbles 
feverishly with the quill. After a few moments Frau 
QuiXANO yawns, wakes, and stretches herself. Then she 
looks at the clock.'] 

FRAU QUIXANO 
SJiabbos I 

[_She rises and goes to the fable and sees there are no candles, 
walks to the chiffonier and gets them and places them. 
in the candlesticks, then lights the candles, muttering a 
ceremonial Hebrew benediction.] 

BorucJi atto Jiaddoshcm elloJicimi- melech hoolam 
assJier kiddisJionii bemitzvosov vettzivonii. lehadlik neir 
shel shabbos. 

\_She pulls down the blinds of the two windows, then she goes 
to the rapt composer and touches him, refnindingly, on 
the shoulder. He does not move, but continues writing.] 

Dovidel I 

\_He looks up dazedly. She points to the candles.] 

Shabbos I 
\_A sweet smile comes over his face, he throws the quill re- 
signedly atuay and submits his head to her hands and 
her muttered Hebreiu blessing.] 



THE MELTING-POT 49 

Yesinicho elohim keefrayim vechimnasseJi — yeiw- 
rechecho haddosJiem veyishmerecho, yoer haddoshetn 
ponov eilecho vechiniecho, yisso haddosJietn ponov 
cilecho veyosem lecJio sliolom. 

\_Then she goes toward the kitchen. As she turns at the 
door, he is again writing. She shakes her finger at him, 
repeating'^ 

Gut Shabbos ! 

DAVID 

Gut Shabbos ! 

l^Futs dozvn the pen and smiles after her till the door closes, 
then with a deep sigh takes his cape from the peg and 
his violin case, pauses, still Jmmming, to take up his 
pen and write down a fresh phrase, finally puts on his 
hat and is Just about to open the street-door when 
Kathleen enters from her bedroom fully dressed to go, 
and laden with a large brown paper parcel and an 
umbrella. He turns at the sound of her footsteps and 
remains at the door, holding his violin case during the 
ensuing dialogue ^^ 

DAVID 

You're not going out this bitter weather ? 

KATHLEEN 
\_Sharply fending him off tvith her umbrella^ 
And who's to shtay me ? 

DAVID 
Oh, but you mustn't — /'// do your errand — what 
is it ? 

E 



50 THE MELTING-POT 

KATHLEEN 
\_Indignantly.'\ 
Errand, is it, indeed ! I'm not here ! 

DAVID 

Not here ? 

KATHLEEN 

I'm lavin', they'll come for me thrunk — -and ye'll 
witness I don't take the candleshtick ! 

DAVID 

But who's sending you away ? 

KATHLEEN 

It's sending meself away I am — I can't shtand 
your grandmother. 

DAVID 
But I haven't a grandmother. 

KATHLEEN 

She's just as bad — 

DAVID 

But what has the poor old la — } 

KATHLEEN 

What with salting the mate and mixing the 

crockery — ! 

DAVID 

\_Gentfy.'] 

I know, I know — but, Kathleen, remember she was 
brought up to these things from childhood. And her 
father was a Rabbi. 



THE MELTING-POT 5 1 

KATHLEEN 

What's that ? A praste ? 

DAVID 

A sort of praste. In Russia he was a great man. 
Her husband, too, was a mighty scholar, and to give 
him time to study the holy books she had to do 
chores all day for him and the children. 

KATHLEEN 

Oh, those prastes ! 

DAVID 

\_Smiliug.'\ 

No, he wasn't a praste. But he took sick and 
died and the children left her — went to America or 
heaven or other far-off places — and she was left all 
penniless and alone. 

KATHLEEN 

Poor ould lady. 

DAVID 

Not so old yet, for she was married at fifteen. 

KATHLEEN 

Poor young chrayter ! 

DAVID 

But she was still the good angel of the congre- 
gation — sat up with the sick and watched over the 
dead. 



52 THE MELTING-POT 

KATHLEEN 

Saints alive ! And not scared ? 

DAVID 

No, nothing scared her — except me. I got a 
broken-down fiddle and used to play it even on 
Shabbos — I was very naughty. But she was so 
lovely to me. I still remember the heavenly taste of 
a piece of Motso she gave me dipped in raisin wine ! 
Passover cake, you know. 

KATHLEEN 
\_Proudly. ] 
Oh, / know Motso. 

DAVID 
\_Smacks his lips, repeats.'^ 
Heavenly ! 

KATHLEEN 

Sure, I must tashte it. 

DAVID 

\_Shaking his head, 7/iyste?'iously.'\ 
Only little boys get that tashte. 

KATHLEEN 

That's quare. 

DAVID 

\_Smiling.'] 

Very quare. And then one day my uncle sent the 
old lady a ticket to come to America. But it is not so 



THE MELTING-POT 53 

happy for her here because you see my uncle has 
to be near his theatre and can't live in the Jewish 
quarter, and so nobody understands her, and she sits 
all the livelong day alone — alone with her book and 
her religion and her memories — 

KATHLEEN 
[^Breaking down.'] 
Oh, Mr. David ! 

DAVID 

And now all this long, cold, snowy evening she'll 
sit by the fire alone, thinking of her dead, and the fire 
will sink lower and lower, and she won't be able to 
touch it, because it's the holy Sabbath, and there'll 
be no kind Kathleen to brighten up the grey ashes, 
and then at last, sad and shivering, she'll creep up to 
her room without a candlestick, and there in the dark 
and the cold — 

KATHLEEN 

\^Hysterically bursting into tears, dropping her parcel, and 
ujitying her bonnet strings.'\ 

Oh, Mr. David, I won't mix the crockery, I won't — 

DAVID 

\_Heai-tily.~\ 

Of course you won't. Good night. 

\_He slips out hurriedly through the street-door as Kath- 
leen throws off her bonnet, and the curtain falls qiiickly. 
As it rises again, she is seen strenuously poking the fire, 
illumined by its red glow.'] 



ACT II 

\_The same scene 071 an afternoon a month later. David is 
discovered at his desk, scribbling music in a fever of en- 
thtisiasm. Mendel, dressed in his best, is playing softly 
on the piano, watching David. After an instant or tivo 
of indecision, he puts down the piano-lid with a bang and 
rises decisively?^ 

MENDEL 

David ! 

DAVID 
[Putting up his left hand^ 
Please, please — 

\_He writes feverishly^ 

MENDEL 
But I want to talk to you seriously — at once. 

DAVID 

I'm just re-writing the Finale. Oh, such a splendid 
inspiration ! 

[He writes on.] 

MENDEL 

[Shn/gs his shoulders and reseats himself at piano. He plays 
a bar or two. Looks at watch impatiently. Resolutely.'] 

David, I've got wonderful news for you. Miss 
Revendal is bringing somebody to see you, and we 

54 



THE MELTING-POT 55 

have hopes of getting you sent to Germany to study 
composition. 

[David does jiot reply, bjit writes rapidly on.^ 

Why, he hasn't heard a word ! 

{_JIe shouts.'] 
David! 

DAVID 
[ Writijig on.~\ 

I can't, uncle. I miistT^wt it down while that glori- 
ous impression is fresh. 

MENDEL 

What impression } You only went to the People's 
Alliance. 

DAVID 



Yes, and there I saw the Jewish children — a thou- 
ing the Flag. 

\_He writes on.'] 



sand of 'em — saluting the Flag. 



MENDEL 

Well, what of that ? 

DAVID 

What of that ? 

\He throws down his quill and jumps up.] 

But just fancy it, uncle. The Stars and Stripes 
unfurled, and a thousand childish voices, piping and 
foreign, fresh from the lands of oppression, hailing 
its fluttering folds. I cried like a baby. 



56 THE MELTING-POT 

MENDEL 
I'm afraid you are one. 

DAVID 

Ah, but if you had heard them — " Flag of our 
Great Repubhc " — the words have gone singing at 
my heart ever since — 

\_He turns to the flag ove7' the door.'\ 

" Flag of our Great Republic, guardian of our 
homes, whose stars and stripes stand for Bravery, 
Purity, Truth, and Union, we salute thee. We, the 
natives of distant lands, who find 
\_Half-sobbing. ] 
rest under thy folds, do pledge our hearts, our lives, our 
sacred honour to love and protect thee, our Country, 
and the liberty of the American people for ever." 
\_He ends almost ]iyste7'ically.'\ 

MENDEL 
\_Soothingly . ] 
Quite right. But you needn't get so excited over it. 

DAVID 
Not when one hears the roaring of the fires of God ? 
Not when one sees the souls melting in the Crucible ? 
Uncle, all those little Jews will grow up Americans ! 

MENDEL 

\Putti7ig a pacifying hand on his shoulder and forcing hint 
into a chair."] 

Sit down. I want to talk to you about your affairs. 



THE MELTING-POT 57 

DAVID 

\Sittingr\ 

My affairs ! But I've been talking about them all 

the time ! 

MENDEL 

Nonsense, David. 

\He sits beside him.'] 

Don't you think it's time you got into a wider 

world ? 

DAVID 

Eh ? This planet's wide enough for me. 

MENDEL 

Do be serious. You don't want to live all your life 

in this room. 

DAVID 

\_Looks round.~\ 
What's the matter with this room } It's princely. 

MENDEL 
\_Raising his hands in horror.] 
Princely ! 

DAVID 

Imperial. Remember when I first saw it — after 
pigging a week in the rocking steerage, swinging in 
a berth as wide as my fiddle case, hung near the cook- 
ing engines ; imagine the hot rancid smell of the 
food, the oil of the machinery, the odours of all that 
close-packed, sea-sick — 



58 THE MELTING-POT 

MENDEL 
\_Putting his hand 07)er David's mouth.'] 
Don't! You make me ill! How could you ever 
bear it ? 

DAVID 
\_Smilmg.'\ 

I was quite happy — I only had to fancy I'd been 
shipwrecked, and that after clinging to a plank five 
days without food or water on the great lonely Atlan- 
tic, my frozen, sodden form had been picked up by 
this great safe steamer and given this delightful dry 
berth, regular meals, and the spectacle of all these 
friendly faces. . . . Do you know who was on board 
that boat ? Quincy Davenport. 

MENDEL 

The lord of corn and oil ? 

DAVID 
\_Smiling.'\ 

Yes, even we wretches in the steerage felt safe to 
think the lord was up above, and the company 
would never dare drown hiui. But could even Quincy 
Davenport command a cabin like this ? 

[ Waving his arm round the ?'ooin.~\ 

Why, uncle, we have a cabin worth a thousand 
dollars — a thousand dollars a zveek — and what's 
more, it doesn't wobble ! 

\He plants his feet voluptuously upoi tJie floor.] 



THE MELTING-POT 59 

MENDEL 
Come, come, David, I asked you to be serious. 
Surely, some day you'd like your music produced ? 

DAVID 
\Jumps tip.~\ 

Wouldn't it be glorious ? To hear it all actually 
coming out of violins and 'cellos, drums and trumpets. 

MENDEL 
And you'd like it to go all over the world ? 

DAVID 

All over the world and all down the ages. 

MENDEL 
But don't you see that unless you go and study 
seriously in Germany — } 

\_Enter Kathleen from kitchen, carrying a furnished tea- 
tray with ear-shaped cakes, bread and butter, etc., and 
wearing a grotesque false nose. Mendel cries out in 
amaze~\ 
Kathleen ! 

DAVID 
\_Roaring with boyish laughter^ 
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! 

KATHLEEN 
\_Standing still with her tray.'] 
Sure, phwat's the matter } 



6o THE MELTING-POT 

DAVID 
Look in the glass ! 

KATHLEEN 

[Going to the mantel.'\ 

Houly Moses ! 

\She drops the tray, which Mendel catches, and snatches off 

the nose.~\ 

Sure, I forgot to take it off — 'twas the misthress 
gave it me — I put it on to cheer her up. 

DAVID 

Is she so miserable, then ? 

KATHLEEN 

Terrible low, Mr, David, to-day being Puriin. 

MENDEL 

Purini ! Is to-day Purim ? 

[Gives her the tea-tray back. Kathleen, to take it, drops 
her nose aJid forgets //.] 

DAVID 

But Pu7'im is a merry time, Kathleen, like your 
Carnival. Haven't you read the book of Esther — 
how the Jews of Persia escaped massacre .■* 

KATHLEEN 

That's what the misthress is so miserable about. 
Ye don't keep the Carnival. There's noses for both 
of ye in the kitchen — I went with her to Hester 
Street to buy 'em — but ye don't ax after 'em. And 
to see your noses laying around so solemn and neg- 
lected, faith, it nearly makes me chry meself. 



THE MELTING-POT 6 1 

MENDEL 
[Bitterly to himself.'\ 
Who can remember about Piiriiii in America ? 

DAVID 
\^IIaIf-smiHng.'\ 

Poor auntie, tell her to come in and I'll play her a 
Ptirini jig. 

MENDEL 

\_Hastily.~\ 

No, no, David, not here — the visitors! 

DAVID 

Visitors ? What visitors ? 

MENDEL 
\_Impatiently.'\ 
That's just what I've been trying to explain. 

DAVID 

Well, I can play in the kitchen. 

[He takes his violin. Exit to kitchen. Mendel sighs and 
shrugs his shoulders hopelessly at the boy's pei'versity, 
then fingers the cups and saucers.~\ 

MENDEL 
\_Anxiotisly.'\ 
Is that the best tea-set ? 



62 THE MELTING-POT 

KATHLEEN 

Sure, it's the Passover set ! 

\_R2cefiilly:\ 

It'll be shpiled entirely now for Passover. . . . 
And the misthress thought the visitors might like to 
thry some of her Ptivim cakes. 

\Indicates ear-shaped cakes on trayJ\ 

MENDEL 

{^Bitterly ?^ 
Purim cakes ! 

\He turns his back on her and stares moodily out of the 
window^ 

KATHLEEN 

\_Mutters contemptuously 7\ 

Call yerself a Jew and forgit to keep Purim ! 

\She is going back to the kitcheri when a merry Slavic dance 
breaks out, softened by the door; her feet unconsciously 
get more and fnore into dance step, and at last she Jigs 
out. As she opens and passes through the door, the 
music sounds louder.~\ 

FRAU QUIXANO 
\_Heard from kitchen. "^ 

Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Kathleen!! 

[Mendel's /^^/, too, begin to take the swing of the music, and 
his feet dance as he stares out of the window. Sud- 
denly the hoot of an automobile is heard, followed by the 
rattling up of the car."] 



THE MELTING-POT 63 

MENDEL 

Ah, she has brought somebody swell ! 

\_He throws open the doors and goes out eagerly to meet the 
visitors. The dance music goes on softly throughout the 
scene.] 

QUINCY DAVENPORT 

[^ Outside.^ 

Oh, thank you — I leave the coats in the car. 

[_Enter an instant later QumcY Davenport and Vera Reven- 
DAL, Mendel in the rear. Vera is dressed much as 
before, but with a motor veil, which she takes off dur- 
ing the scene. Davenport is a dude, aping the air 
of a European sporting clubman. Aged about thirty-five 
and well set-up, he wears an orchid and an intertnittent 
eyeglass, and gives the impi^ession of a coarse-fibred a7id 
patronisingly facetious but not bad-hearted inan, spoiled 
by prosperity. '\ 

MENDEL 

Won't you be seated ? 

VERA 

First let me introduce my friend, who is good 
enough to interest himself in your nephew — Mr. 
Quincy Davenport. 

MENDEL 
\_Struck of a heap.] 
Mr. Quincy Davenport ! How strange ! 

VERA 

What is strange .-' 



64 THE MELTING-POT 

MENDEL 

David just mentioned Mr. Davenport's name — 
said they travelled to New York on the same boat. 

QUINCY 

Impossible ! Always travel on my own yacht. 
Slow but select. Must have been another man of 
the same name — my dad. Ha! Ha! Ha! 

MENDEL 
Ah, of course. I thought you were too young. 

QUINCY 

My dad, Miss Revendal, is one of those antiquated 
Americans who are always in a hurry ! 

VERA 

He burns coal and you burn time. 

QUINCY 

Precisely! Ha! Ha! Ha! 

MENDEL 

Won't you sit down — I'll go and prepare David. 

VERA 
\Sitting?[ 
You've not prepared him yet .<* 



THE MELTING-POT 65 

MENDEL 

I've tried to more than once — but I never really 

got to — 

\He smUes.~\ 

to Germany. 

[QuiNCY sits.'\ 

VERA 
Then prepare him for three visitors. 

MENDEL 

Three .'' 

VERA 

You see Mr. Davenport himself is no judge of 
music. 

QUINCY 
\_Jumps upj] 
I beg your pardon. 

VERA 

In manuscript. 

QUINCY 

. Ah, of course not. Music should be heard, not 
seen — like that jolly jig. Is that your David ? 

MENDEL 

Oh, you mustn't judge him by that. He's just 

fooling. 

QUINCY 

Oh, he'd better not fool with Poppy. He's awful 
severe. 



^ THE MELTING-POT 

MENDEL 

Poppy ? 

QUINCY 

Pappelmeister — my private orchestra conductor. 

MENDEL 

Is it j/<??/r orchestra Pappelmeister conducts? 

QUINCY 
Well, / pay the piper — and the drummer too! 
\_He chuckles^ 

MENDEL 
\Sadly?[ 
I wanted to play in it, but he turned me down. 

QUINCY 

I told you he was awful severe. 

[r^ Vera.] 

He only allows me comic opera once a week. My 
wife calls him the Bismarck of the baton. 

MENDEL 
\_Reverently.'\ 
A great conductor ! 

QUINCY 

Would he have a twenty -thousand-dollar job with 
me if he wasn't ? Not that he'd get half that in the 



THE MELTING-POT 67 

open market — only I have to stick it on to keep him 
for my guests exclusively. 

[_Looks at ■watch.'\ 

But he ought to be here, confound him, A con- 
ductor should keep time, eh, Miss Revendal ? 

\He sniggers.'] 

MENDEL 

I'll bring David. Won't you help yourselves to 
tea? 

\_To Vera.] 

You see there's lemon for 3^ou — as in Russia. 

\^Exit to kitchen — a mometit afterwards the merry music 
stops in the middle of a bar.] 

VERA 
Thank you. 

\Taki71g a cup.] 

"Dq you like lemon, Mr. Davenport.'' 

QUINCY 
\_Flirta tioiisly. ] 

That depends. The last I had was in Russia itself 
— from the fair hands of your mother, the Baroness. 

VERA 
\_Pained.] 
Please don't say my mother, my mother is dead. 



68 THE MELTING-POT 

QUINCY 

\Fatuously misunderstandingT^ 

Oh, you have no call to be ashamed of your step- 
mother — she's a stunning creature ; all the points of 
a tip-top Russian aristocrat, or Quincy Davenport's no 
judge of breed ! Doesn't speak English like your 
father — but then the Baron is a wonder. 

VERA 
[^Takes up tea-poi.'\ 

Father once hoped to be British Ambassador — 
that's why / had an English governess. But you 
never told me you met him in Russia. 

QUINCY 

Surely ! When I gave you all those love mes- 
sages — 

VERA 

\Pouring tea quickly. '\ 
You said you met him at Wiesbaden. 

QUINCY 

Yes, but we grew such pals I motored him and the 
Baroness back to St. Petersburg. Jolly country, Rus- 
sia — they know how to live. 

VERA 

I saw more of those who know how to die. . . . 
Milk and sugar .■' 



THE MELTING-POT 69 

QUINCY 
[ SetUitnenfaUy^ 
Oh, Miss Revendal ! Have you forgotten ? 

VERA 
'\_Politely S7iiibbing.~\ 
How should I remember ? 

QUINCY 

You don't remember our first meeting ? At the 
Settlement Bazaar ? When I paid you a hundred 
dollars for every piece of sugar you put in ? 

VERA 
Did you ? Then I hope you drank syrup. 

QUINCY 

Ugh ! I hate sugar — I sacrificed myself. 

VERA 

To the Settlement .'' How heroic of you ! 

QUINCY 

No, not to the Settlement. To you ! 

VERA 
Then I'll only put milk in. 

QUINCY 
I hate milk. But from you — 



70 THE MELTING-POT 

VERA 
Then we imtst fall back on the lemon. 

QUINCY 

I loathe lemon. But from — 

VERA 

Then you shall have your tea neat. 

QUINCY 

I detest tea, and here it would be particularly cheap 
and nasty. But — 

VERA 

Then you shall have a cake ! 

\_She offers plateJ^ 

QUINCY 
[ Taking one.'] 
Would they be eatable ? 

\_Tasting //.] 
Humph ! Not bad. 

^^Sentimentally.'] 
A little cake was all you would eat the only time 
you came to one of my private concerts. Don't you 
remember ? We went down to supper together. 

VERA 
\Taking his tea for he?'self aiid putting in lemon.'] 

I shall always remember the delicious music Herr 
Pappelmeister gave us. 



THE MELTING-POT Ji 

QUINCY 

How unkind of you ! 

VERA 
Unkind ? 

\_She sips the tea and puts down the a/p.'] 

To be grateful for the music ? 

QUINCY 
You know what I mean — to forget me ! 
\_He tries to take her hand.'] 

VERA 
{^Rising.] 
Aren't you forgetting yourself ? 

QUINCY 

You mean because I'm married to that patched-and- 
painted creature ? She's hankering for the stage 
again, the old witch. 

VERA 

Hush ! Marriages with comic opera stars are not 
usually domestic idylls. 

QUINCY 

I fell a victim to my love of music. 

VERA 
\_Murmurs, sinilingl\ 
Music ! 



72 THE MELTING-POT 

QUINCY 

And I hadn't yet met the right breed — the true 
blue blood of Europe. I'll get a divorce. 

\_Approaching her.'\ 
Vera! 

VERA 
\_Retreating.'\ 
You will make me sorry I came to you. 

QUINCY 

No, don't say that — I promised the Baron I'd 
always do all I could for — 

VERA 

You promised } You dared discuss my affairs } 

QUINCY 

It was your father began it. When he found I 
knew you, he almost wept with emotion. He asked 
a hundred questions about your life in America. 

VERA 

His life and mine are for ever separate. He is a 
Reactionary, I a Radical. 

QUINCY 

But he loves you dreadfully — he can't understand 
why you should go slaving away summer and winter 
in a Settlement — you a member of the Russian 
nobility ! 



THE MELTING-POT 73 

VERA 
[ With faint smile.'] 

I might say, noblesse oblige. But the truth is, I 
earn my living that way. It would do yojt good to 
slave there too ! 

QUINCY 

{Eagerly?^ 

Would they chain us together ? I'd come to- 
morrow. 

\_He moves nearer her. There is a double knock at the door.] 

VERA 
\Relieiied.] 
Here's Pappelmeister ! 

QUINCY 
Bother Poppy — why is he so darned punctual r 
\_Enter Kathleen /;-<?;« the kitchen.] 

VERA 
\_S'mHing.] 
Ah, you're still here. 

KATHLEEN 
And why would I not be here ? 

\She goes to open the door.] 

PAPPELMEISTER 

Mr. Quixano .'' 



74 THE MELTING-POT 

KATHLEEN 

Yes, come in. 

\_Enter Herr Pappelmeister, a biirly German figure with 
a leonine head, spectacles, and a ?nane of white hair 
— a figure that makes his employer look eveji coarser. 
He carries an umbrella, which he never lets go. He is 
at first grave and silent, which makes any burst of emotion 
the more striking. He and Quincy Davenport suggest 
a picture of "Dignity and Impudence." His English, as 
roughly indicated in the text, is extremely Teutonic. '\ 

QUINCY 
You're late, Poppy ! 

[Pappelmeister silently bows to Vera.] 

VERA 
[^Smilingly goes and offej's her hand.'\ 
Proud to meet you, Herr Pappelmeister ! 
QUINCY 

Excuse me — 

^Introducing^ 

Miss Revendal ! — I forgot you and Poppy hadn't 
been introduced — curiously enough it was at Wiesba- 
den I picked him up too, — he was conducting the 
opera — your folks were in my box. I don't think 
I ever met any one so mad on music as the Baron. 
And the Baroness told me he had retired from active 
service in the Army because of the torture of listening 
to the average military band. Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! 



THE MELTING-POT 75 

VERA 
Yes, my father once hoped my music would com- 
fort him. 

\_She smiles sadly.~\ 

Poor father ! But a soldier must bear defeat. 
Herr Pappelmeister, may I not give you some tea ? 
\^She sits again at the table. ~\ 

QUINCY 
Tea ! Lager's more in Poppy's line. 
\_He chuckles. '\ 

PAPPELMEISTER 

[ Gravely.'\ 
Bitte. Tea. 

\She pours out, he sits.'\ 

Lemon. Four lumps. . . . Nun, five ! 

\She hands him the cup.~\ 
Danke. 

\_As he receives the cup, he titters an exclamation, for Kath- 
leen after opening the door has lingered on, hunting 
around everywhere, and having finally crawled under the 
table has now brushed against his leg.'] 

VERA 
What are you looking for ? 

KATHLEEN 

[^ffer head emej'-ging.'] 
My nose ! 

\_They are all startled and amused.'] 



76 THE MELTING-POT 

VERA 
Your nose ? 

KATHLEEN 

I forgot me nose ! 

QUINCY 

Well, follow your nose — and you'll find it. Ha! 
Ha! Ha! 

KATHLEEN 

[Pouncing on //.] 
Here it is ! 

\_Ficks it up 7iear the ar77ichair.'] 

OMNES 
Oh! 

KATHLEEN 

Sure, it's gotten all dirthy. 
\_She takes out a handkerchief and wipes the 7iose carefully. '\ 

QUINCY 
But why do you want a nose like that ? 

KATHLEEN 
\Proudly^ 
Bekaz we're Hebrews I 

QUINCY 
What! 

VERA 
What do you mean ? 



THE MELT/NG-POT yy 

KATHLEEN 

It's our Carnival to-day ! Purim. 

\_She carries her nose carefidly and piously toward the 
kite hen. '\ 

VERA 

Oh ! I see. 

\_Exit Kathleen. 

QUINCY 

\_In horror?^ 

Miss Revendal, you don't mean to say you've 
brought me to a Jew ! 

VERA 

I'm afraid I have. I was thinking only of his 
genius, not his race. And you see, so many musi- 
cians are Jews. 

QUINCY 

Not my musicians. No Jew's harp in my orches- 
tra, eh } 

\_He s?iiggers.'] 

I wouldn't have a Jew if he paid me. 
VERA 

I daresay you have some, all the same. 

QUINCY 

Impossible. Poppy ! Are there any Jews in my 
orchestra .-' 



yS THE MELTING-POT 

PAPPELMEISTER 

\_Removing the cup from his mouth and speaking with sepul- 
chral solemnity. '\ 

Do you mean are dere any Christians ? 

QUINCY 
[/« horror.'] 
Gee-rusalem ! Perhaps you're a Jew ! 

PAPPELMEISTER 
[ Gravely.] 

I haf not de honour. But, if you brefer, I will 
gut out from my brogrammes all de Chewish com- 
posers. Was ? 

QUINCY 

Why, of course. Fire 'em out, every mother's son 
of 'em. 

PAPPELMEISTER 
\_Uns?Hiling.] 
Also — no more comic operas ! 

QUINCY 
What ! ! ! • 

PAPPELMEISTER 

Dey write all de comic operas ! 

QUINCY 

Brute ! 

[Pappelmeister's chuckle is heard gurgling in his cup. Re- 
enter Mendel from kitchen.] 



THE MELTING-POT 79 

MENDEL 
[Ti? Vera.] 
I'm so sorry — I can't get him to come in — he's 
terrible shy. 

QUINCY 
Won't face the music, eh ? 

\He sniggers. '\ 

VERA 
Did you tell him / was here ? 

MENDEL 

Of course. 

VERA 

{Disappointed.'] 
Oh! 

MENDEL 

But I've persuaded him to let me show his Ms. 

VERA 

[ With forced satisfaction.] 

Oh, well, that's all we want. 

[Mendel goes to the desk, opens it, and gets the Ms. and 

offers it to Quincy Davenport.] 

QUINCY 
Not for me — Poppy ! 
[Mendel offers it to Pappelmeister, 7vho takes it solemnly.] 

MENDEL 
{Anxiously to Pappelmeister.] 

Of course you must remember his youth and his 
lack of musical education — 



8o THE MELTING-POT 

PAPPELMEISTER 
Bitte, das Pult ! 
[Mendel moves David's music-stand fy-om the corner to the 
centre of the room. Pappelmeister /^/j Ms. on it.'] 
So! 

\_Atl eyes centre on him eagerly, Mendel standing uneasily, 
the others sitting. Pappelmeister polishes his glasses 
with irritatitig elaborateness and weary '^ achs,^^ then 
reads in absolute silence. A pcCuse.] 

QUINCY 
[^Bored by the silence^ 
But won't you play it to us ? 

PAPPELMEISTER 
Blay it ? Am I an orchestra ? I blay it in my 
brain. 

S^He goes on reading, his broiv gets wrinkled. He ruffles 
his hair unconsciously. All watch him anxiously 
— he turns the page.] 

So! 

VERA 

{Anxiously?^ 

You don't seem to like it ! 

PAPPELMEISTER 

I do not comprehend it. 

MENDEL 
I knew it was crazy — it is supposed to be about 
America or a Crucible or something. And of course 
there are heaps of mistakes. 



THE MELTING-POT 8 1 

VERA 

That is why I am suggesting to Mr. Davenport to 
send him to Germany. 

QUINCY 

I'll send as many Jews as you like to Germany. 
Ha! Ha! Ha! 

PAPPELMEISTER 

\Absorbed, turning pages ^ 

Ach! — ach! — So! 

QUINCY 

I'd even lend my own yacht to take 'em back. 
Ha! Ha! Ha! 

VERA 

Sh ! We're disturbing Herr Pappelmeister. 

QUINCY 
Oh, Poppy's all right. 

PAPPELMEISTER 

\Sublimely unconsciousi\ 

Ach so — so — SO ! Das ist etwas neices ! 

\His uinbrella begins to beat time, nioinng more and itiore 
vigorously, till at last he is conducting elaborately, 
stretching out his left palm for pianissimo passages, and 
raising it vigorously forforte, with every now and then 
an exclatnation^ 

WunderscJion I . . . pianissimo ! — now the flutes! 
Clarinets ! Ach ergotzlich . . . bassoons and drums ! 
. . . Fortissimo I . . . Colossal ! Colossal ! 

\Coiiducting in a fury of enthusiasm?^ 

G 



82 THE MELTING-POT 

VERA 
Bravo ! Bravo ! I'm so excited ! 

QUINCY 

[ Yawning.'\ 
Then it isn't bad, Poppy ? 

PAPPELMEISTER 
\_Not listening, never ceasing to conduct^] 

Und de harp solo . . . ac/i, reizvoll ! . . . Second 
violins — ! 

QUINCY 

But Poppy ! We can't be here all day. 

PAPPELMEISTER 
\^Not listening, continuing pantomime action.~\ 
Sh! Sh! Piano. 

QUINCY 

[ Outraged^ 
Sh to me ! 

\_Rises^ 

VERA 
He doesn't know it's you, 

QUINCY 

But look here, Poppy — 

\He seizes the wildly- moving umbrella. Blank stare of 
PAPPELMEISTER gradually returning to consciousness.'] 



THE MELTING-POT 83 

PAPPEr.MEISTER 

Was ist . . . f 

QUINCY 

We've had enough. 

PAPPELMEISTER 

\^Indigfiant.~\ 

Enough ? Enough ? Of such a beaudiful sym- 
phony ? 

QUINCY 

It may be beautiful to you, but to us it's damn dull. 
See here, Poppy, if you're satisfied that the young 
fellow has sufficient talent to be sent to study in Ger- 
many — 

PAPPELMEISTER 

In Germany ! Germany has nodings to teach him, 
he has to teach Germany. 

VERA 

Bravo ! 

\_She springs i!p.'\ 

MENDEL 
I always said he was a genius ! 

QUINCY 
Well, at that rate you could put this stuff of bis 
in one of my programmes. Sinfonia Americana, eh ? 

VERA 
Oh, that is good of you ! 

PAPPELMEISTER 
I should be broud to indroduce it to de vorld. 



84 THE MELTING-POT 

VERA 

And will it be played in that wonderful marble 
music-room overlooking the Hudson ? 

QUINCY 

Sure. Before five hundred of the smartest folk in 
America. 

MENDEL 

Oh, thank you, thank you. That will mean fame ! 

QUINCY 

And dollars. Don't forget the dollars. 

MENDEL 
I'll run and tell him. 

\He hastens into the kitchen, Pappelmeister is re-absorhed 
in the Ms., but no longer conducting.'] 

QUINCY 

You see, I'll help even a Jew for your sake. 

VERA 

Hush ! 

\_Indicating Pappelmeister.] 

QUINCY 

Oh, Poppy's in the moon. 

VERA 
You must help him for his own sake. 

QUINCY 
And why not for my sake .-' 

\_He comes nearer.'] 



THE MELTING-POT 85 

VERA 
\_Crossiiig to Pappelmeister.] 

Herr Pappelmeister ! When do you think you can 
produce it ? 

PAPPELMEISTER 

Wunderbar ! . . . 

[Becoming half-cojiscious of Vera.] 

Four lumps. . . . 

\_Waking up.'] 
Bitte f 

VERA 

How soon can you produce it ? 
PAPPELMEISTER 

How soon can he finish it ? 

VERA 

Isn't it finished ? 

PAPPELMEISTER 

I see von Finale scratched out and anoder not 
quite completed. But anyhow, ve couldn't broduce 
it before Saturday fortnight. 

QUINCY 
Saturday fortnight ! Not time to get my crowd. 

PAPPELMEISTER 
Den ve say Saturday dree veeks. Yes } 




86 THE MELTING-POT 

QUINCY 
Yes. Stop a minute ! Did you say Saturday ? 
That's my comic opera night ! You thief ! 

PAPPELMEISTER 
Somedings must be sagrificed. 

MENDEL 

[ Outside^ 

You vinst come, David. 

\The kitchen door opens, and Mei^del drags in the boyishly 
shnnking David. Pappelmeister thumps with his um- 
brella, Vera claps her hands, Quincy Davenport pro- 
duces his eyeglass and surveys David curiously^ 

VERA 

Oh, Mr. Quixano, I am so glad! Mr. Davenport 

is going to produce your symphony in his wonderful 

music-room. 

QUINCY 

Yes, young man, I'm going to give you the smart- 
est audience in America. And if Poppy is right, 
you're just going to rake in the dollars. America 
wants a composer. 

PAPPELMEISTER 

\_Raises hands emphatically^ 

Ach Gott, ja I 

VERA 

{To David.] 

Why don't you speak 1 You're not angry with me 

for interfering — .'' 



THE MELTING-POT 87 

DAVID 
I can never be grateful enough to you — 

VERA 

Oh, not to me. It is to Mr. Davenport you — 

DAVID 

And I can never be grateful enough to Herr Pap- 
pelmeister. It is an honour even to meet him. 

\Bows.'\ 

PAPPELMEISTER 
[ Choking with emotion, goes and pats him on the back.'\ 
Mein braver Jtinge ! 

VERA 
\_Anxiously^ 
But it is Mr, Davenport — 

DAVID 

Before I accept Mr. Davenport's kindness, I must 
know to whom I am indebted — and if Mr. Daven- 
port is the man who — 

QUINCY 

Who travelled with you to New York } Ha ! Ha ! 
Ha ! No, Fm only the junior. 

DAVID 

Oh, I know, sir, you don't make the money you 
spend. 



8S THE MELTING-POT 

QUINCY 

Eh? 

VERA 
\_Anxiously^ 
He means he knows you're not in business. 

DAVID 

Yes, sir; but is it true you are in pleasure? 

QUINCY 
\Puzzled^ 
I beg your pardon ? 

DAVID 

Are all the stories the papers print about you 
true ? 

QUINCY 

All the stories. That's a tall order. Ha ! Ha ! 
Ha! 

DAVID 

Well, anyhow, is it true that — ? 

VERA 

Mr. Quixano ! What are you driving at ? 

QUINCY 

Oh, it's rather fun to hear what the masses read 
about me. Fire ahead. Is what true ? 

DAVID 

That you were married in a balloon ? 



THE MELTING-POT 89 

QUINCY 

Ho! Ha! Ha! That's true enough. Marriage 
in high life, they said, didn't they ? Ha ! Ha ! 
Ha! 

DAVID 

And is it true you Hve in America only two 
months in the year, and then only to entertain Eu- 
ropeans who wander to these wild parts ? 

QUINCY 

Lucky for you, young man. You'll have an Ital- 
ian prince and a British duke to hear your scrib- 
blings. 

DAVID 

And the palace where they will hear my scribbhngs 
— is it true that — .-" 

VERA 

[ Who has been on pins mid needles^ 
Mr. Quixano, what possible — .'* 

DAVID 

\_Entreatingly holds up a hand.~\ 

Miss Revendal ! 

\_^To QuiNCY Davenport.] 

Is this palace the same whose grounds were turned 
into Venetian canals where the guests ate in gon- 
dolas — gondolas that were draped with the most 
wonderful trailing silks in imitation of the Venetian 
nobility in the great water fetes 1 



90 THE MELTING-POT 

QUINCY 
\_Turns to Vera.] 

Ah, Miss Revendal — what a pity you refused that 
invitation ! It was a fairy scene of twinkling lights 
and delicious darkness — each couple had their own 
gondola to sup in, and their own side-canal to slip 
down. Eh.? Ha! Ha! Ha! 

DAVID 

And tlie same night, women and children died of 
hunger in New York ! 

QUINCY 

\_StartJed, drops eyeglass.'\ 
Eh.? 

DAVID 

[Furiously.'] 

And this is the sort of people you would invite to 
hear my symphony — these gondola-guzzlers I 

VERA 

Mr. Quixano ! 

MENDEL 

David ! 

DAVID 

These magnificent animals who went into the gon- 
dolas two by two, to feed and flirt ! 

QUINCY 
\_Dazed.'\ 
Sir! 



THE MELTING-POT 91 

DAVID 
I should be a new freak for you for a new freak 
evening — I and my dreams and my music ! 

QUINCY 
You low-down, ungrateful — 

DAVID 

Not for you and such as you have I sat here writ- 
ing and dreaming; not for you who are killing my 
America ! 

QUINCY 

Your America, forsooth, you Jew-immigrant ! 

VERA 

Mr. Davenport! 

DAVID 

Yes — Jew-immigrant ! But a Jew who knows that 
your Pilgrim Fathers came straight out of his Old 
Testament, and that our Jew-immigrants are a greater 
factor in the glory of this great commonwealth than 
some of you sons of the soil. It is you, freak-fash- 
ionables, who are undoing the work of Washington 
and Lincoln, vulgarising your high heritage, and turn- 
ing the last and noblest hope of humanity into a 
caricature. 

QUINCY 
\_Rocking with laughter^ 
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ho I Ho ! Ho ! 

\^To Vera.] 
You never told me your Jew-scribbler was a socialist ! 



92 THE MELTING-POT 

DAVID 

I am nothing but a simple artist, but I come from 
Europe, one of her victims, and I know that she is a 
failure ; that her palaces and peerages are outworn 
toys of the human spirit, and that the only hope of 
mankind lies in a new world. And here — in the 
land of to-morrow — you are trying to bring back 
Europe — 

QUINCY 
\Interjecting.'\ 
I wish we could ! — 

DAVID 

Europe with her comic-opera coronets and her 
worm-eaten stage decorations, and her pomp and chiv- 
alry built on a morass of crime and misery — 

QUINCY 

[ With sneering laughJ] 
Morass ! — 

DAVID 

[ With prophetic passion."] 

But you shall not kill my dream ! There shall 
come a fire round the Crucible that will melt you and 
your breed like wax in a blowpipe — 

QUINCY 

\_Furiously, with clenched fist.] 
You — 

DAVID 
America shall make good . , . ! 



THE MELTING-POT 93 

PAPPELMEISTER 

[ Who has sat down and remained imperturbably seated 
throughout all this scene, springs up and waves his 
umbrella hysterically. ~\ 
Hock Quixano I Hock ! Hock ! Es lebe Qtiixano ! 

Hock ! 

QUINCY 

Poppy ! You're dismissed ! 

PAPPELMEISTER 

\_Goes to David with outstretched hand. '\ 

Danke. 

l^They grip hands. Pappelmeister /?/r«^ to Quincy Daven- 
port.] 

Comic Opera ! Ouf ! 

QUINCY 

\_Goes to street-door, at white heat'] 
Are you coming, Miss Revendal ? 
\_He opens the door.^ 

VERA 
[^To QuiNCY, but not moving.^ 

Pray, pray, accept my apologies — believe me, if I 
had known — 

QUINCY 

[^J^uriously.'] 

Then stop with your Jew ! 

[_£xit.'] 



94 THE MELTING-POT 

MENDEL 
\Franiically^ 
But, Mr. Davenport, — don't go ! He is only a boy. 

\_Exit after Quincy Davenport.] 
You must consider — 

DAVID 

Oh, Herr Pappelmeister, you have lost your place ! 

PAPPELMEISTER 

And saved my soul. Dollars are de devil. Now I 
must to an appointment. Auf baldiges Wiedersehen. 

\^He shakes David's hand.'\ 

Fraulein Revendal! 

[He takes her hand and kisses it. Exit. David and Vera 
stand gazing at each other. "] 

VERA 
What have you done .-' What have you done ? 

DAVID 

What else could I do ? 

VERA 

I hate the smart set as much as you — but as your 
ladder and your trumpet — 

DAVID 
I would not stand indebted to them. I know you 
meant it for my good, but what would these Europe- 



THE MELTING-POT 95 

apers have understood of my America — the Amer- 
ica of my music? They look back on Europe as 
a pleasure ground, a palace of art — but I know 

[ Getting hysterical^ 
it is sodden with blood, red with bestial massacres — 

VERA 

\_Alarmed, anxious. '\ 

Let us talk no more about it. 

\_She holds out htr hand."] 
Good-bye. 

DAVID 
\_Frozen, taking it, holding /A] 

Ah, you are offended by my ingratitude — I shall 
never see you again. 

VERA 

No, I am not offended. But I have failed to help 
you. We have nothing else to meet for. 

\_She disengages her hand^ 
DAVID 

Why will you punish me so.? I have only hurt 

myself. 

VERA 

It is not z. pimisJmient. 

DAVID 

What else .-' When you are with me, all the air 
seems to tremble with fairy music played by some 
unseen fairy orchestra. 



96 THE MELTING-POT 

VERA 
\Tremulous^ 
And yet you wouldn't come in just now when I — 

DAVID 

I was too frightened of the others . . . 

VERA 

Frightened indeed ! 

DAVID 

Yes, I know I became overbold — but to take all 
that magic sweetness out of my life for ever — you 
don't call that a punishment ? 

VERA 
\_Blushing.'\ 

How could I wish to punish you? I was proud 

of you ! 

\_Drops her eyes, murmurs^ 

Besides it would be punishing myself. 

DAVID 
' \^In passionate amaze. '^ 

Miss Revendal! . . . But no, it cannot be. It 
is too impossible. 

VERA 
\Frightened.'\ 
Yes, too impossible. Good-bye. 
\_She turns^ 



THE MELTING-POT 97 

DAVID 
But not for always ? 
[Y'E'RA hangs her head. He comes nearer. Passionately. ~\ 
Promise me that you — that I — 

\_IIe takes her hand again.'] 

VERA 
\_Meliing at his touch, breathes.] 
Yes, yes, David. 

DAVID 

Miss Revendal ! 

[She fails into his arms.] 

VERA 
My dear ! my dear ! 

DAVID 

It is a dream. You cannot care for me — you so 
far above me. 

VERA 

Above you, you simple boy } Your genius lifts you 
to the stars. 

DAVID 

No, no ; it is you who lift me there — 

VERA 
[Smoothing his hair.] 

Oh, David. And to think that I was brought up to 
despise your race. 



98 THE MELTING-POT 

DAVID 

Yes, all Russians are. 

VERA 

But we of the nobility in particular. 

DAVID 
\_Amazed, half- releasing herJ] 
You are noble ? 

VERA 

My father is Baron Revendal, but I have long 
since carved out a life of my own. 

DAVID 

Then he will not separate us } 

VERA 

No. 

\_Re-embracing him.'] 

Nothing can separate us. 

\_A knock at the street-door. They separate. The automo- 
bile is heard clattering off.] 

DAVID 

It is my uncle coming back. 

VERA 
\_In low, tense tones."] 

Then I shall slip out. I could not bear a third. I 

will write. 

l^She goes to the door.] 



THE MELTING-POT 99 

DAVID 

Yes, yes . . . Vera. 
\_He follows her to the door. He opens it and she slips out.'] 

MENDEL 
[^Half-seen at the door, expostulating?^ 
You, too. Miss Revendal — ? 
\_Re-enters? 
Oh, David, you have driven away all your friends. 

DAVID 

\_Going to window and looking after Vera.] 

Not all, uncle. Not all. 

\^He throws his arms boyishly round his uncle.] 

I am so happy. 

MENDEL 
Happy .'' 

DAVID 

She loves me — Vera loves me. 

MENDEL 

Vera .? 

DAVID 

Miss Revendal. 

MENDEL 

Have you lost your wits ? 

\He throws David off.] 

DAVID 
I don't wonder you're amazed. Maybe you think 
/ wasn't. It is as if an angel should stoop down — 



lOO THE MELTING-POT 

MENDEL 
\_IIoarsely ^ 

This is true ? This is not some stupid Piirim 
joke ? 

DAVID 
True and sacred as the sunrise. 
MENDEL 

But you are a Jew ! 

DAVID 

Yes, and just think ! She was bred up to despise 
Jews — her father was a Russian baron — 

MENDEL 

If she was the daughter of fifty barons, you can- 
not marry her. 

DAVID 

\_In pained aniaze.'\ 
Uncle ! 

\^Slowly.'\ 

Then your hankering after the synagogue was 
serious after all. 

MENDEL 

It is not so much the synagogue — it is the call of 
our blood through immemorial generations. 

DAVID 

Yoti say that ! You who have come to the heart 
of the Crucible, where the roaring fires of God are 
fusing our race with all the others. 



THE MELTING-POT lOI 

MENDEL 
\_Passionately.'\ 

Not our race, not your race and mine. 

DAVID 
What immunity has our race ? 

\^Meditatively^ 

The pride and the prejudice, the dreams and the 
sacrifices, the traditions and the superstitions, the 
fasts and the feasts, things noble and things sordid 
— they must all into the Crucible. 

MENDEL 
[ With prophetic fury. '\ 

The Jew has been tried in a thousand fires and 
only tempered and annealed. 

DAVID 

Fires of hate, not fires of love. That is what 
melts. 

MENDEL 

\Sneers?^ 
So I see. 

DAVID 

Your sneer is false. The love that melted me 
was not Vera's — it was the love America showed 
me — the day she gathered me to her breast. 

MENDEL 
\Speaking passionately and rapidly. '\ 
Many countries have gathered us. Holland took 
us when we were driven from Spain — but we did 



102 THE MELTING-POT 

not become Dutchmen. Turkey took us when Ger- 
many oppressed us, but we have not become Turks. 

DAVID 

These countries were not in the making. They 
were old civilisations stamped with the seal of creed. 
Here in this new secular Republic we must look 
forward — 

MENDEL 
\_Passionately interrupting.l 
We must look backwards, too. 

DAVID 

[^Hysterically.'] 

To what } To Kishineff .-' 

\_As if seeing his vision.^ 

To that butcher's face directing the slaughter? 
To those — ? 

MENDEL 
\_Alarmed.'\ 
Hush ! Calm yourself ! 

DAVID 
[Struggling with himself.'] 

Yes, I will calm myself — but how else shall I 
calm myself save by forgetting all that nightmare of 
religions and races, save by holding out my hands 
with prayer and music toward the Republic of Man 
and the Kingdom of God ! The Past I cannot mend 



THE MELTING-POT 103 

— its evil outlines are stamped in immortal rigidity. 
Take away the hope that I can mend the Future, and 
you make me mad. ~~ ~ " 

MENDEL 

You are mad already — your dreams are mad — the 
Jew is hated here as everywhere — you are false to 
your race. 

DAVID 

I keep faith with America. I have faith America 
will keep faith with us. 

\_He raises his hands in 7-eligious rapture toward the fiag 
over the door.'] 

Flag of our great Republic, guardian of our homes, 
whose stars and — 

MENDEL 

Spare me that rigmarole. Go out and marry your 
Gentile and be happy. 

DAVID 

You turn me out .-* 

MENDEL 
Would you stay and break my mother's heart } 
You know she would mourn for you as for a child of 
her own. Go ! You have cast off the God of our 
fathers ! 

DAVID 

\_Thundrously.'] 

And the God of our children — does He demand 
no service .'' 



104 THE MELTING-POT 

\_Quieter, coming totvard his micle atid touching him affec- 
tionately on the shoulder7\ 

You are right — I do need a wider world. 
\_Expands his lungs.'\ 

I must go away. 

MENDEL 
Go,' then — I'll hide the truth — she must never 
suspect — lest she mourn you as dead. 

FRAU QUIXANO 
{^Outside, in the kitchefiJ] 
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! 

\_Both men turn toward the kitchen and listen.'] 

KATHLEEN 

Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! 

FRAU QUIXANO AND KATHLEEN 

Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! 

MENDEL 
\_Bitterfy.'] 
A merry Pnriin! 
\_The kitchen door opens and remains ajar. Frau Quixano 
rushes in, carrying David's vioiin and bow. Kath- 
leen looks in, grinning.'\ 

FRAU QUIXANO 
\_Hilariously^ 
N21 spiel noch I spiel I 
\^She holds the violin and bow appealingly toward David.] 



THE MELTING-POT 105 

MENDEL 
\^Putting out a protesting hand.'] 
No, no, David — I couldn't bear it. 

DAVID 

But I must ! You said she mustn't suspect. 

\_He looks lovingly at her as he loudly utters these zvords, which 
are unintelligible to her.] 

And it may be the last time I shall ever play for 

her. 

[ Changing to a mock metyy smile as he takes the violin and 
bozv fro7n her.~\ 

Gewiss, Mninme I 

\He starts the same old Slavic dance.] 

FRAU QUIXANO 
[ Childishly pleased.] 
•He! He! He! 
\_She claps on a false grotesque nose from her pocket.] 

DAVID 
\^Torn between laughter and tears.] 
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! 

MENDEL 
\Shocked,'\ 
Mutter! 



I06 THE MELTING-POT 

FRAU QUIXANO 
Un^du auch! 

\_She claps ajiother false nose on Mendel, laughing in child- 
ish glee at the effect. Then she starts dancing to the 
music, and Kathleen slips in a?id Joyously dances beside 
her-l 

DAVID 

{Joining tearfully in the laughter.'] 

Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Pla ! 

\_The curtain Jails quickly. It rises again upon the picture 
oj Frau QuiXANO Jallen back into a chair, exhausted 
with laughter, Janning herself with her aproji, while 
Kathleen has dropped breathless across the arm of the 
armchair; DAvm is still playing on, and Mendel, his 
false nose torn off, stands by, glowering. The curtain 
falls again and rises upo?i a final tableau of David in 
his cloak and hat, stealing out of the door with his vio- 
lin, casting a sad farewell glance at the old woman and 
at the home which has sheltered him^ 



ACT III 



\_April, about a month later. The scene changes to Miss Re- 



vendal's sitting room at the Settlement House on a sunny 
day. Simple, pretty furniture : a sofa, chairs, small^ 
table, etc. An open piano with music. Flowers and 
books about. Fine art rep roductions on walls. The 

fireplace is on the left. A door on the left leads to the 
~Tiair, and a door on the right to the interior. A servant 
enters from the left, ushering in Baron and B aroness 
Revendal and Quincy Dave nport. The Baron is a 
tall, stern, grizzled maji of military bearing, with a 
narrow, fanatical forehead and jnartitiet niatinej's, but 
otherwise of honest and distittguished appearance, with 
a short, well-trimmed white beard and well-cut Furopean 
clothes. Although his dignity is diminished by the con- 
stant 7tervous suspiciousness of the Russian official, it is 
never lost ; his nervousness, despite its comic side, being 
visibly the tragic shadow of his position. His Fnglish 
has only a touch of the foreign in accent and vocabulary 
and is much superior to his wife^s, which comes to her 
through her French. The Baroness is pretty and 
dressed in red in the height of Paris fashion, but blazes 
with bar baric jew els at neck and throat and W7'ist. She 
gestures freely with her hand, which, when ungloved, 
glitters ivith heavy rings. She is much younger than the 
^aron and self-consciously fascinating. Her parasol, 
which matches her costume, suggests the sunshine with- 
out. Qu incy Dave nport is in a smart spring suit with 
a motor dust-coat and cap, which last he lays dowft on 
the mantelpiece. '\ 

- " ~ 107 



I08 THE MELTING-POT 



SERVANT 



Miss Revendal is on the roof-garden. I'll go and 

tell her. 

\_Exit, toward the halL'\ 

BARON 

A marvellous people, you Americans. Gardens in 
the sky ! 

QUINCY 

Gardens, forsooth ! We plant a tub and call it 
Paradise. No, Baron. New York is the great stone 
desert. 

BARONESS 

But ze big beautiful Park vere ve drove true .'' 

QUINCY 

No taste, Baroness, modern sculpture and menag- 
eries ! Think of the Medici gardens at Rome. 

BARONESS 

Ah, Rome ! 

[ With an ecstatic sigh, she drops into an armchair. Then 
she takes out a dainty cigarette-case, pulls off her right- 
hand glove, exhibiting her rings, and chooses a cigarette. 
The Baron, seeing this, produces his match-box?^ 

QUINCY 

And now, dear Baron Revendal, having brought 
you safely to the den of the lioness, — if I may venture 
to call your daughter so, — I must leave /c?^/ to do the 
taming, eh ? 



THE MELTING-POT 109 

BARON 
You are always of the most amiable. 
\_He strikes a tnatch.'\ 

BARONESS 

Tout a fait charniant. 

[_The Baron tights her cigarette^ 

QUINCY 

\_Bows gallantly^ 
Don't mention it. I'll just have my auto take me 
to the Club, and then I'll send it back for you. 

BARONESS 
Ah, zank you — zat street-car looks horreeble. 
\_She puffs out smoke^ 

BARON 

Quite impossible. What is to prevent an anarchist 
sitting next to you and shooting out your brains .-' 

QUINCY 

We haven't much of that here — I don't mean 
brains. Ha! Ha! Ha! 

BARON 

But I saw desperadoes spying as we came off your 
yacht. 

QUINCY 

Oh, that was newspaper chaps. 



no THE MELTING-POT 

BARON 
\_Shakes his head.'\ 

No — they are circulating my appearance to all the 
gang in the States. They took snapshots. 

QUINCY 

Then you're quite safe from recognition. 

\_He sfiiggers.'] 
Didn't they ask you questions .-" 

BARON 

Yes, but I am a diplomat. I do not reply. 

QUINCY 

That's not very diplomatic here. Ha ! Ha ! 

BARON 
Viable ! 
\^He claps his hand to his hip pocket, half-producing a pistol. 
The Baroness looks equally anxious.'] 

QUINCY 
What's up } 

BARON 
\_Points to window, whispers hoarsely.] 
Regard ! A hooligan peeped in ! 

QUINCY 
\Goes to window.] 
Only some poor devil come to the Settlement. 



THE MELTING-POT III 

BARON 
\_Hoarsely.'\ 
But under his arm — a bomb ! 

QUINCY 
\Shqking his head smilingly.'\ 

A soup bowl. 

BARONESS 

Ha! Ha! Ha! 

QUINCY 

What makes you so nervous, Baron ? 

[The Baron s/ij>s back his pistol, a little ashamedJ] 

BARONESS 

Ze Intellectuals and ze Bund, zey all hate my hus- 
band because he is faizful to Christ 

[ Crossing herself.'] 
and ze Czar. 

QUINCY 
But the Intellectuals are in Russia. 

BARON 

They have their branches here — the refugees are 
the leaders — it is a diabolical network. 

QUINCY 

Well, anyhow, zve're not in Russia, eh ? No, no. 
Baron, you're quite safe. Still, you can keep my 
automobile as long as you like — I've plenty. 



1 1 2 THE MEL TING-POT 

BARON 
A thousand thanks. 

[ Wiping his forehead. '\ 
But surely no gentleman would sit in the public 
car, squeezed between workingmen and shop-girls, 
not to say Jews and Blacks. 

QUINCY 
It is done here. But we shall change all that. 
Already we have a few taxi-cabs. Give us time, my 
dear Baron, give us time. You mustn't judge us by 
your European standard. 

BARON 
By the European standard, Mr. Davenport, you 
put our hospitality to the shame. From the moment 
you sent your yacht for us to Odessa — 

QUINCY 

Pray, don't ever speak of that again — you know 
how anxious I was to get you to New York. 

BARON 

Provided we have arrived in time ! 

QUINCY 

That's all right, I keep telling you. They aren't 
married yet — 

BARON 

[^Grinding his teeth and shaking his fist J\ 

Those Jew-vermin — all my life I have suffered 
from them ! 



THE MELTING-POT II3 

QUINCY 

We all suffer from them. 

BARONESS 

Zey are ze pests of ze civilisation. 

BARON 

But this supreme insult Vera shall not put on the 
blood of the Revendals — not if I have to shoot her 
down with my own hand — and myself after ! 

QUINCY 

No, no, Baron, that's not done here. Besides, if 
you shoot her down, where do / come in, eh } 

BARON 

\_Ptizzled.'\ 
Where you come in ">. 

QUINCY 

Oh, Baron ! Surely you have guessed that it is 
not merely Jew-hate, but — er — Christian love. Eh .■* 

\_Laughing uneasily. ] 

BARON 
You! 

BARONESS 

\^Clappinq her hands.'] 

Oh, charmant, charniant ! But it ees a romance ! 



114 THE MELTING-POT 

BARON 
But you are married ! 

BARONESS 
\Downcast.'\ 
Ah, Old. Quel dommage, vat a peety ! 

QUINCY 

You forget, Baron, we are in America. The law 
giveth and the law taketh away. 

\He sniggers^ 

BARONESS 

It ees a vonderful country ! But your vife — hein ? 
— vould she consent .'' 

QUINCY 

She's mad to get back on the stage — I'll run a 
theatre for her. It's your daughter's consent that's 
the real trouble — she won't see me because I lost 
my temper and told her to stop with her Jew. So I 
look to you to straighten things out. 

BARONESS 
Mais parfaitement. 

BARON 
\_Frowning at herj] 

You go too quick, Katusha. What influence have 
I on Vera ? And you she has never even seen ! To 
kick out the Jew-beast is one thing. . . . 



THE MELTING-POT I15 

QUINCY 

Well, anyhow, don't shoot her — shoot the beast 

rather. 

\_Smggeringly.'\ 

BARON 
Shooting is too good for the enemies of Christ. 

[ Crossing himself.'] 
At Kishineff we stick the swine. 

QUINCY 
\_Interesfed.'] 

Ah ! I read about that. Did you see the mas- 
sacre ? 

BARON 

Which one ? Give me a cigarette, Katusha. 

\_She obeys.'] 
We've had several Jew-massacres. 

QUINCY 

Have you ? The papers only boomed one — four 
or five years ago — about Easter time, I think — 

BARON 

Ah, yes — when the Jews insulted the procession of 
the Host! 

\_Taking a light from the cigarette iti his wife's mouth.'\ 

QUINCY 
Did they ? I thought — 



Il6 THE MELTING-POT 

BARON 
\_Sarcastically7\ 

I daresay. That's the lies they spread in the 
West. They have the Press in their hands, damn 
'em. But you see I was on the spot. 

\_He drops into a chair.'] 

I had charge of the whole district. 

QUINCY 
{^StartledJ] 
You! 

BARON 

Yes, and I hurried a regiment up to teach the 
blaspheming brutes manners — 

\_He puffs out a leisurely cloud.] 

QUINCY 
[ Whistling.'] 

Whew ! . . . I — I say, old chap, I mean Baron, 
you'd better not say that here. 

BARON 

Why not ? I am proud of it. 

BARONESS 

My husband vas decorated for it — he has ze order 
of St. Vladimir, 



THE MELTING-POT II7 

BARON 

Second class ! Shall we allow these bigots to 
mock at all we hold sacred ? The Jews are the 
deadliest enemies of our holy autocracy and of the 
only orthodox Church. Their Bund is behind all the 
Revolution. 

BARONESS 

A plague-spot muz be cut out ! 

QUINCY 

Well, I'd keep it dark if I were you. Kishineff is 
a back number, and we don't take much stock in the 
new massacres. Still, we're a bit squeamish — 

BARON 

Squeamish ! Don't you lynch and roast your 
niggers .-' 

QUINCY 

Not officially. Whereas your Black Hundreds — 

BARON 

Black Hundreds ! My dear Mr. Davenport, they 
are the white hosts of Christ 

\_Crossing himself. ~\ 

and of the Czar, who is God's vicegerent on earth. 
Have you not read the works of our sainted Pobie^ 
donostzeff, Procurator of the Most Holy Synod } 



Il8 THE MELTING-POT 

QUINCY 

Well, of course, I always felt there was another 
side to it, but still — 

BARONESS 

Perhaps he has right, Alexis. Our Ambassador 
vonce told me ze Americans are more sentimental 
zan civilised. 

BARON 

Ah, let them wait till they have ten million vermin 
overrunning their country — we shall see how long 
they will be sentimental. Think of it ! A burrow- 
ing swarm creeping and crawling everywhere, ugh ! 
They ruin our peasantry with their loans and their 
drink shops, ruin our army with their revolutionary 
propaganda, ruin our professional classes by snatching 
all the prizes and professorships, ruin our commercial 
classes by monopolising our sugar industries, our oil- 
fields, our timber-trade. . , . Why, if we gave them 
equal rights, our Holy Russia would be entirely run 
by them. 

BARONESS 

Mon dicii ! Cest vrai. Ve real Russians vould be- 
come slaves. 

QUINCY 

Then what are you going to do with them } 

BARON 

One-third will be baptized, one-third massacred, 
the other third emigrated here. 

\He strikes a match to relight his cigarette.'^ 



THE MELTING-POT II9 

QUINCY ^■ 

[ Sh udderingly. ] 

Thank you, my dear Baron, — you've already sent 

me one Jew too many. We're going to stop all alien 

immigration. 

BARON 

To stop all alien — ? But that is barbarous ! 

QUINCY 
Well, don't let us waste our time on the Jew-prob- 
lem . . . our own little Jew-problem is enough, eh ? 
Get rid of this little fiddler. Then / may have a 
look in. Adieu, Baron, 

BARON 

Adieu. 

\_Holdmg his hand.'\ 

But you are not really serious about Vera .-* 
\The Baroness makes a gesture of annoyance ?i^ 

QUINCY 
Not serious, Baron } Why, to marry her is the 
only thing I have ever wanted that I couldn't get. 
It is torture ! Baroness, I rely on your sympathy. 
\He kisses her hand with a pretentious foreign air.'\ 

BARONESS 
\_In sentimental approvaL~\ ^ 

Ah I Vani07ir! ramotir! 
\_Exit QuiNCY Davenport, taking his cap in passing."] 

You might have given him a little encouragement, 
Alexis. VPS 



120 THE MELTING-POT 

BARON 

Silence, Katusha. I only tolerated the man in 
Europe because he was a link with Vera. 

BARONESS 
You accepted his yacht and his — 

BARON 

If I had known his loose views on divorce — 

BARONESS 

I am sick of your scruples. You are ze only poor 
official in Bessarabia. 

BARON 

Be silent ! Have I not forbidden — ? 

BARONESS 
\Petulantly l\ 

Forbidden ! Forbidden ! All your life you have 
served ze Czar, and you cannot afford a single auto- 
mobile. A millionnaire son-in-law is just vat you owe 
me, 

BARON 

What I owe you .'' 

BARONESS 

Yes, ven I married you, I vas tinking you had a 
good position. I did not know you were too honest 
to use it. You vere not open viz me, Alexis. 



THE MELTING-POT 121 

BARON 

You knew I was a Revendal. The Revendals keep 
their hands clean. . . . 

[ With a sudden start he tiptoes noiselessly to the door leading 
to the hall and throws it open. Nobody is visible. He 
closes it shamefacedly.'^ 

BARONESS 

\^Has shared his nervousness till the door was opened, but 
now bursts into mocking laughter."] 

If you thought less about your precious safety, and 
more about me and Vera — 

BARON 

Hush ! You do not know Vera. You saw I was 
^ven afraid to give my name. She might have 
St it me away as she sent away the Czar's plate of 
V . ton. 

BARONESS 

Czar's plate of — } 

BARON 

Did I never tell you .-' When she was only a 
schoolgirl — at the Imperial High School — the 
Czar on his annual visit tasted the food, and Vera as 
the show pupil was given the honour of finishing His 
Majesty's plate. 

BARONESS 
[/« incredulous horror.'] 
And she sent it avay ? 



122 THE MELTING-POT 

BARON 

Gave it to a servant. 

\_Awed silence. '\ 

And then you thinK I can impose a husband on 
her. No, Katusha, I have to win her love for my- 
self, not for millionnaires. 

BARONESS 
\_Angry again ^ 
Alvays so affrightfully selfish ! 

BARON 

I have no control over her, I tell you ! 

{^Bitterly.l 
I never could control my womankind. 

BARONESS 

Because you zink zey are your soldiers. Silence ! 
Halt! Forbidden! Right Veel ! March! 

BARON 
\SuHenly.'\ 

I wish I did think they were my soldiers — I might 
try the lash. 

BARONESS 
\_Springing up angrily, shakes parasol at hi?n.'] 
You British barbarian ! 



THE MELTING-POT 1 23 

VERA 
[ Outside the door kaditig to the interior^ 

Yes, thank you, Miss Andrews. I know I have 
visitors. ••• 

BARON 

\_Ec static ally. '\ 
Vera's voice ! 

\_The Baroness lowers her parasol. He looks yearningly 
toward the door. It opejis. Enter Vera with inquir- 
ing gaze."] 

VERA 

[ JVith a great shock of surprise. '\ 

Father ! ! 

BARON 
My dearest darling! . . . 

\He makes a movement toward her, but is checked by her 
irresponsiveness. ] 

Why, you've grown more beautiful than ever. 

VERA 

You in New York ! 

BARON 

The Baroness wished to see America. Katusha, 
this is my daughter. 

BARONESS 

\_In sugared sweetness.'] 

And mine, too, if she vill let me love her. 



124 THE MELTING-POT 

VERA 

\_B owing coldly. '\ 
But how ? When ? 

BARON 
We have just come and — 

BARONESS 
\_D ashing /«.] 

Zat charming young man lent us his yacht — he is 

adorahble. 

VERA 

What charming young man ? 

BARONESS 
Ah, she has many, ze little coquette — ha ! ha ! ha ! 
\She touches V'E.^iA playfully with her parasoL'\ 

BARON 
We wished to give you a pleasant surprise. 

VERA 

It is certainly a surprise. 

BARON 
[ Chilled.'] 
You are not very . . . daughterly. 

VERA 

Do you remember when you last saw me .-' You 
did not claim me as a dausfhter then. 



THE MELTING-POT 1 25 

BARON 
[ Covers his eyes with his hand.] 
Do not recall it ; it hurts too much. 

VERA 

I was in the dock. 

BARON 

It was horrible. I hated you for the devil of re- 
bellion that had entered into your soul, but I thanked 
God when you escaped. 

VERA 
[_So/tened.'] 

I think I was more sorry for you than for myself. 
I hope, at least, no suspicion fell on you. 

BARONESS 

[JSager/y.'] 

But it did — an avalanche of suspicion. He is still 
buried under it. Vy else did they make Skovaloff 
Ambassador instead of him ? Even now he risks 
everyting to see you again. Ah, 7no7i ejifant, you 
owe your fazer a grand reparation ! 

VERA 

What reparation can I possibly make ? 

BARON 
\Passionately^ 
You can love me again. Vera. 



126 THE MELTING-POT 

BARONESS 
\_Sfamping/oot.'\ 
Alexis, you are interrupting — 

VERA 

I fear, father, we have grown too estranged — our 
ideas are so opposite — 

BARON 

But not now. Vera, surely not now ? You are no 
longer 

\_He lowers his voice a7id looks around^ 

a Revolutionist ? 

VERA 

Not with bombs, perhaps. I thank Heaven I was 
caught before I had done any practical work. But 
if you think I accept the order of things, you are mis- 
taken. In Russia I fought against the autocracy — 

BARON 

Hush! Hush! 

\_He looks round nervously 7^ 

VERA 

Here I fight against the poverty. No, father, a 
woman who has once heard the call will always be a 
wild creature. 

BARON 
But 

[^Lowering his voice.~\ 

those revolutionary Russian clubs here — you are not 
a member ? 



THE MELTING-POT 12/ 

VERA 
I do not believe in Revolutions carried on at a safe 
distance. I have found my life-work in America. 

BARON 

I am enchanted, Vera, enchanted. 

BARONESS 
[ Gushingly. '\ 
Permit me to kiss you, belle enfant. 

VERA 
I do not know you enough yet ; I will kiss my 

father. 

BARON 

[ With a great cry of Joy ^ 
Vera! 

\_Ife embraces her passionately.'] 

At last ! At last ! I have found my little Vera 

again ! 

VERA 

No, father, yottr Vera belongs to Russia with her 

mother and the happy days of childhood. But for 

their sakes — 

\_She breaks down in emotion^ 

BARON 
Ah, your poor mother ! 

BARONESS 
{^Tartly:] 
Alexis, I perceive I am too manyd 

\She begins to go toward the door.] 



128 THE MELTING-POT 

BARON 
No, no, Katusha. Vera will learn to love you, too. 

VERA 
\_To Baroness.] 

What does my loving you matter 1 I can never 
return to Russia. 

BARONESS 
S^Pausingr\ 

But ve can come here — often — ven you are 
married. 

VERA 

When I am married .-' 

\_Softly blushing?^ 
You know .'' 

BARONESS 
\Smiling.'\ 

Ve know zat charming young man adores ze floor 
your foot treads on ! 

VERA 
\^B lushing^ 
You have seen David .'' 

BARON 

\_Hoarselyi\ 
David ! 

\_He clenches his fist^ 



THE MELTING-POT 1 29 

BARONESS 
\_Half aside, as tmich gestured as spoken.'\ 
Sh ! Leave it to me. 

{^Sweetlyr^ 
Oh, no, ve have not seen David. 

VERA 
[^Looking from one to the other."] 

Not seen — .'' Then what — whom are you talk- 
ing about .-* 

BARONESS 

About zat handsome, quite adorahble Mr. Daven- 
port. 

VERA 
Davenport ! 

BARONESS 

Who combines ze manners of Europe viz ze mill- 
ions of America ! 

VERA 

\_Breaks into girlish laughter.] 

Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! So Mr. Davenport has been talk- 
ing to you ! But you all seem to forget one small 
point — bigamy is not permitted even to millionnaires. 

BARONESS 
Ah, not boz at vonce, but — 

VERA 
And do you think I would take another woman's 
leavings .'' No, not even if she were dead. 

K 



I30 THE MELTING-POT 

BARONESS 

You are insulting ! 

VERA 

I beg your pardon — I wasn't even thinking of 
you. Father, to put an end at once to this absurd 
conversation, let me inform you I am already en- 
gaged. 

BARON 
\_Trembltng, hoarse. ~\ 
By name, David ! 

VERA 

Yes, — David Quixano. 

BARON 

A Jew ! 

VERA 

How did you know .? Yes, he is a Jew, a noble 
Jew. 

BARON 

A Jew noble ! 

\^IIe laughs bitterly.'\ 

VERA 

Yes — even as you esteem nobility — by pedigree. 
In Spain his ancestors were hidalgos, favourites at 
the Court of Ferdinand and Isabella ; but in the great 
expulsion of 1492 they preferred exile in Poland to 
baptism. 

BARON 

And you, a Revendal, would mate with an unbap- 
tized dog .-' 



THE MELTING-POT 131 

VERA 
Dog ! You call my husband a dog ! 

BARON 

Husband ! God in heaven — are you married al- 
ready ? 

VERA • 

No ! But not being unemployed millionnaires like 
Mr. Davenport, we hold even our troth eternal. 

[ Calmer.'] 

Our poverty, not your prejudice, stands in the way 
of our marriage. But David is a musician of genius, 
and some day — 

BARONESS 

A fiddler in a beer-hall ! She prefers a fiddler to 
a millionnaire of ze first families of America ! 

VERA 
[ Contemptuously.'] 

First families ! I told you David's family came to 
Poland in 1492 — some months before America was 
discovered. 

BARON 

Christ save us ! You have become a Jewess ! 

VERA 

No more than David has become a Christian. We 
were already at one — all honest people are. Surely, 
father, all religions must serve the same God — since 
.there is only one God to serve. 



132 THE MELTING-POT 

BARONESS 
But ze girl is an ateist ! 

BARON 

Silence, Katusha ! Leave me to deal with my 
daughter. 

\_Changing tone to pathos, taking her face between his 
hands. '\ 

Oh, Vera, Verotschka, my dearest darling, I had 

sooner you had remained buried in Siberia than 

that — 

\^He breaks downJ] 

VERA 
\Touched, sitting beside him.'] 

For you, father, I tvas as though buried in Siberia. 
Why did you come here to stab yourself afresh ? 

BARON 

I wish to God I had come here earlier. I wish I 
had not been so nervous of Russian spies. Ah, 
VerotscJika, if you only knew how I have pored over 
the newspaper pictures of you, and the reports of 
your life in this Settlement ! 

VERA 

You asked me not to send letters. 

BARON 

I know, I know — and yet sometimes I felt as if 
I could risk Siberia myself to read your dear, dainty 
handwriting again. 



THE MELTING-POT 1 33 

VERA 
\_Still more softened.~\ 

Father, if you love me so much, surely you will 
love David a little too — for my sake. 

BARON 
\_Dazed.'\ 
I — love — a Jew ? Impossible. 
\^He shudders.'] 

VERA 
\_^Moving away, icify.'] 

Then so is any love from me to you. You have 
chosen to come back into my life, and after our years 
of pain and separation I would gladly remember 
only my old childish affection. But not if you hate 
David. You must make your choice. 

BARON 
^Pitifully.'] 

Choice .'' I have no choice. Can I carry moun- 
tains .'* No more can I love a Jew. 
\_He rises resolutely.'] 

BARONESS 

[ Who has turned away, fretting and fuming, turns back to 
her husband, clapping her hands ^ 

Bravo ! 



134 ^^^^ MELTING-POT 

VERA 
[ Going to him again, coaxingiy.'] 

I don't ask you to carry mountains, but to drop 
the mountains you carry — the mountains of preju- 
dice. Wait till you see him. 

BARON 

I will not see him. 

VERA 

Then you will hear him — he is going to make 
music for all the world. You can't escape hixn, f>apa- 
s/ia, you with your love of music, any more than you 
escaped Rubinstein. 

BARONESS 

Rubinstein vas not a Jew. 

VERA 

Rubinstein was a Jewish boy-genius, just like my 
David. 

BARONESS 
But his parents vere baptized soon after his birth. 
I had it from his patroness, ze Grand Duchess He- 
lena Pavlovna. 

VERA 

And did the water outside change the blood with- 
in .'' Rubinstein was our Court pianist and was deco- 
rated by the Czar. And you, the Czar's servant, 
dare to say you could not meet a Rubinstein. 

BARON 
[ Wave7'ing.~\ 

I did not say I could not meet a Rubinstein. 



THE MELTING-POT 135 

VERA 

You practically said so. David will be even 
greater than Rubinstein. Come, father, I'll tele- 
phone for him ; he is only round the corner. 

BARONESS 
\_Excitedly.'\ 
Ve vill not see him ! 

VERA 
\_Ignoring her.'\ 

He shall bring his violin and play to you. There ! 
You see, little father, you are already less frowning — 
now take that last wrinkle out of your forehead. 

\_She caresses his forehead.'] 

Never mind ! David will smooth it out with his 
music as his Biblical ancestor smoothed that surly 
old, Saul. 

BARONESS 

Ve vill not hear him ! 

BARON 

Silence, Katusha ! Oh, my little Vera, I little 
thought when I let you study music at Petersburg — 

VERA 

\_SmiH12g wheedlingfy.'] 

That I should marry a musician. But you see, 
little father, it all ends in music after all. Now I 



136 THE MELTING-POT 

will go and perform on the telephone, I'm not angel 
enough to bear one in here. 

\She goes toward the door of the hall, smilivg happily^ 

BARON 
\With a last agonized cry of resistance. "^ 
Halt! 

VERA 

\_Turning, makes mock military salute^ 

Yes, papasJia. 

BARON 
[^Overcome by her roguish smile. '\ 
You — I — he — do you love this J — this David so 

much ? 

VERA 

\_Suddenly tragicj 

It would kill me to give him up. 

\Resuming smile.'] 

But don't let us talk of funerals on this happy day 

of sunshine and reunion. 

[She kisses her hand to him and exit toward the hall^ 

BARONESS 
[^Atig?'ily.'\ 
You are in her hands as vax ! 

BARON 
She is the only child I have ever had, Katusha. 
Her baby arms curled round my neck ; in her baby 
sorrows her wet face nestled against little father's. 

[He drops on a chair, and leans his head on the table.] 



THE MELTING-POT 1 37 

BARONESS 
[^Approaching tauntingly. 1 
So you vill have a Jew son-in-law! 

BARON 

You don't know what it meant to me to feel her 
arms round me again. 

BARONESS 
And a hook-nosed brat to call you grandpapa, and 
nestle his greasy face against yours. 

BARON 
{Banging his fist on the table.'\ 
Don't drive me mad ! 

\His head drops againJ] 

BARONESS 

Then drive me home — I vill not meet him. . . . 
Alexis ! 

\_She taps him on the shoulder with her parasol. He does not 

move.^ 

Alexis Ivanovitch ! Do you not listen ! . . . 

[She stamps her foot.] 
Zen I go to ze hotel alone. 
[She walks angrily toward the hall. Jicst before she 
reaches the door, it opens, and the servant ushers in 
Herr Pappelmeister with his umbrella. The Baron- 
ess's tone cha?tges instantly to a sugared society accent.'] 

How do you do, Herr Pappelmeister ? 

\_She extends her hand, 7uhich he takes limply.'] 



138 THE MELTING-POT 

You don't remember me ? Noii f 

\_Exit servafit.'\ 

Ve vere with Mr. Quincy Davenport at Wiesbaden 
— ze Baroness Revendal. 

PAPPELMEISTER 

So! 

\_He drops her hand.'] 

BARONESS 

Yes, it vas ze Baron's entousiasm for you zat got 
you your present position. 

PAPPELMEISTER 

\Arching his eyebrows.'] 
So! 

BARONESS 

Yes — zere he is! 

\_She turns toward the Baron.] 
Alexis, rouse yourself ! 

\She taps him with her parasol.] 
Zis American air makes ze Baron so sleepy. 

BARON 
\_Rises dazedly and bows.] 
Charmed to meet you, Herr — 

BARONESS 

Pappelmeister ! You remember ze great Pappel- 
meister. 



THE MELTING-POT 1 39 

BARON 
[ Waking up, becomes keen.~\ 

Ah, yes, yes, charmed — why do you never bring 
your orchestra to Russia, Herr Pappelmeister ? 

PAPPELMEISTER 
\_Surprised.'\ 

Russia ? It never occurred to me to go to Russia 
— she seems so uncivilised. 

BARONESS 
\_Angry.'] 

Uncivilised ! Vy, ve have ze finest restaurants in ze 
vorld ! And ze best telephones ! 

PAPPELMEISTER 

So? 

BARONESS 

Yes — Russia is affrightfully misunderstood. 

\She sweeps away in btirnijig indignation. Pappelmeister 
murmurs in deprecation. Re-enter Yera from the hall. 
She is gay and happy. '\ 

VERA 
He is coming round at once — 

\_She utters a cry of pleased surprise.'] 
Herr Pappelmeister ! This is indeed a pleasure ! 
\_She gives Pappelmeister her hand, which he kisses^ 



I40 



THE MELTING-POT 



BARONESS 
\Sotto voce to the Baron.] 

Let us go before he comes. 
\The Baron ignores her, his eyes hungrily on Vera.] 

PAPPELMEISTER 
{^To Vera.] 
But I come again — you have visitors. 

VERA 
\_SniiUng. ] 
Only my father and — 

PAPPELMEISTER 
\Surpnsed.~\ 
Your fader } Ach so ! 

\_He taps his forehead.'] 
Revendal ! 

BARONESS 
\_Sotto voce to the Baron.] 

I vill not meet a Jew, I tell you. 

PAPPELMEISTER 
But you vill vant to talk to your fader, and all / 
vant is Mr. Quixano's address. De Irish girl at de 
house says de bird is flown. 

VERA 
[ Gravely^ 

I don't know if I ought to tell you where the new 
nest is — 



THE MELTING-POT 141 

PAPPELMEISTER 

\_Dis appointed J\ 
Ach ! 

VERA 
\Smiling?^ 
But I will produce the bird. 

PAPPELMEISTER 
\_Looks round.'] 
You vill broduce Mr. Quixano ? 

VERA 
[^Merrily.'] 
By clapping my hands. 

\_Mysteriously.~\ 
I am a magician. 

BARON 

[ Whose eyes have been glued on Vera.] 

You are indeed ! I don't know how you have be- 
witched me. 

\_The Baroness glares at him.~\ 

VERA 

Dear little father ! 

\_She crosses to him and strokes his hair.] 

Herr Pappelmeister, tell father about Mr. Quixano's 
music. 



142 THE MELTING-POT 

PAPPELMEISTER 
\_Shaking his head.'\ 
Music cannot be talked about. 

VERA 
\_Smilmg?\ 
That's a nasty one for the critics. But tell father 
what a genius Da — Mr. Quixano is. 

BARONESS 
[Desperately intervening?[ 
Good-bye, Vera. 

\_She thrusts out her hand, which Vera takes?^ 
I have a headache. You muz excuse me. Herr 
Pappelmeister, an plaisir de vous revoir. 
[Pappelmeister hastens to the door, which he holds open. 
The Baroness turns and glares at the BaronT^ 

BARON 
[Agitated^ 
Let me see you to the auto — 

BARONESS 

You could see me to ze hotel almost as quick. 

BARON 

\_To Vera.] 

I won't say good-bye, VerotscJika — I shall be 

back. 

\_He goes toward the hall, theti turns.'] 

You will keep him waiting .'' 

[Vera smiles lovingly.] 



THE MELTING-POT I43 

BARONESS 
You are keeping fne vaiting. 
\He turns quickly. Exeicnt Baron and Baroness\ 

PAPPELMEISTER 
And now broduce Mr. Quixano ! 

VERA 

Not so fast. What are you going to do with him .? 
PAPPELMEISTER 

Put him in my orchestra ! 

VERA 

\_Ecstatic7\ 
Oh, you dear ! 

[ The7i Jter tone changes to disappointmentr\ 

But he won't go into Mr. Davenport's orchestra. 

PAPPELMEISTER 

It is no more Mr. Davenport's orchestra. He fired 
me, don't you remember.-' Now I boss — how say 
you in American .-' 

VERA 

\_Smiling!\ 
Your own show. 

PAPPELMEISTER 

Ja, my own band. Ven I left dat comic opera 
millionnaire, dey all shtick to me almost to von man. 



144 ^-^^ MELTING-POT 

VERA 
How nice of them ! 

PAPPELMEISTER 

All egsept de Christian — he vas de von man. He 
shtick to de millionnaire. So I lose my brincipal first 
violin. 

VERA 

And Mr. Quixano is to — oh, how delightful ! 

\She claps her hands girlishly.'] 

PAPPELMEISTER 
\_Looks round mischievously. ] 
Ack, de magic failed. 

VERA 
\_Puzzled.~\ 
Eh! 

PAPPELMEISTER 

You do not broduce him. You clap de hands — 
but you do not broduce him. Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! 

\_IIe breaks into a great roar of genial laughter 1^ 

VERA 
\_Chiming in merrily r\ 

Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! But I said I have to know every- 
thing first. Will he get a good salary .-' 

PAPPELMEISTER 
Enough to keep a vife and eight children ! 



THE MELTING-POT 1 45 

VERA 

\_B lushing^ 
But he hasn't a — 

PAPPELMEISTER 

No, but de Christian had — he get de same — I 
mean salary, ha ! ha ! ha ! not children. Den he 
can be independent^ — -vedder de fool-public like his 
American symphony or not — nicht wahr? 

VERA 
You are good to us — 

\_HastiIy correcting herself. '\ 
to Mr. Quixano. 

PAPPELMEISTER 

\_Smiling.'\ 

And aldough you cannot broduce him, I broduce 
his symphony. Was f 

VERA 
Oh, Herr Pappelmeister ! You are an angel. 

PAPPELMEISTER 

Neiii, nein, nichi liebes Kind ! I fear I haf not de 
correct shape for an angel. 

\_He laughs heartily. A knock at the door from the hall.'] 

L 



146 THE MELTING-POT 

VERA 
\_Merrily^ 
Now I clap my hands. 

\She claps ^ 
Come ! 

\The door opens^ 

Behold him ! 

\She makes a conjurer's gesture. David, bareheaded, ca7-ry- 
ing his fiddle, opejis the door, and stands staring in 
amazement at Pappelmeister. ] 

DAVID 
I thought you asked me to meet your father. 

PAPPELMEISTER 

She is a magician. She has changed us. 

\_He waves his umbrella^ 
Hey presto, was ? Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! 

\_IIe goes to David, and shakes hands. '\ 
Und zvie gehfsf I hear you've left home. 

DAVID 

Yes, but I've such a bully cabin — 

PAPPELMEISTER 
\Alarmed.'\ 
You are sailing avay .-' 



THE MELTING-POT 147 

VERA 

{^Laugliing.'l 

No, no — that's only his way of describing his two- 
dollar-a-month garret. 

DAVID 

Yes — my state-room on the top deck ! 

VERA 

\^SmUing.'\ 

Six foot square. 

DAVID 

But three other passengers aren't squeezed in, and 
it never pitches and tosses. It's heavenly. 

PAPPELMEISTER 

^SmilingP^ 

And from heaven you flew down to blay in dat 
beer-hall. Was ? 

[David looks surprised.'] 
I heard you. 

DAVID 
You ! What on earth did you go there for .? 

PAPPELMEISTER 

Vat on earth does one go to a beer-hall for ? Ha ! 
Ha! Ha! For vawter ! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ven I 
hear you blay, I dink mit myself — if my blans 
succeed and I get Carnegie Hall for Saturday 



148 THE MELTING-POT 

Symphony Concerts, dat boy shall be one of my first 
violins. Was ? 

\_IIe slaps David ott the left shoulder. '\ 

DAVID 

[ Overwhelmed, ecstatic, yet wmcing a little at the slap on his 

wound.'] 

Be one of your first — 

\_Remembering, ] 

Oh, but it is impossible. 

VERA 
S^Alarmed?^ 
Mr. Quixano ! You must not refuse. 

DAVID 

But does Herr Pappelmeister know about the 
wound in my shoulder .'' 

PAPPELMEISTER 
{Agitated^ 
You haf been vounded .'' 

DAVID 

Only a legacy from Russia — but it twinges in some 
weathers. 

PAPPELMEISTER 

And de pain ubsets your blaying .-' 



THE MELTING-POT 1 49 

DAVID 

Not SO much the pain — it's all the dreadful mem- 
ories — 

VERA 

\_Alai-med?[ 

Don't talk of them, 

DAVID 

I miist explain to Herr Pappelmeister — it wouldn't 
be fair. Even now 

\_Shudde}-ing.'\ 

there comes up before me the bleeding body of my 
mother, the cold, fiendish face of the Russian officer, 
supervising the slaughter — 

VERA 

Hush! Hush! 

DAVID 

\Hysterically^ 

Oh, that butcher's face — there it is — hovering in 
the air, that narrow, fanatical forehead, that — 

PAPPELMEISTER 
\_.Briiigs down his umbrella with a bang.'] 

Scklussf No man ever dared break down under 
me. My baton will beat avay all dese faces and 
fancies. Out v/ith your violin ! 

\_IIe laps his umbrella impei-iotisly on the table.] 

Keinen Miit verlieren I 



I50 THE MELTING-POT 

[David takes out his violin from its case and puts it to 
his shoulder, Pappelmeister keeping up a hypnotic tor- 
rent of e^icouraging Gert?ian cries.'] 

Also I Fertig ! Anfangen I 

\He raises and zvaves his umbrella like a baton.'] 

Von, dwo, dree, four — 

DAVID 
[ With a great sigh of relief] 
Thanks, thanks — they are gone already. 

PAPPELMEISTER 

Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! You see. And ven ve blay your 
American symphony — 

DAVID 
{^Dazed.] 
You will play my American symphony ? 

VERA 

\_Disappoi7ited.] 
Don't you jump for joy? 

DAVID 
\Still dazed but ecstatic?^ 
Herr Pappelmeister ! 

\_Changing back to despondency^] 

But what certainty is .there your Carnegie Hall 
audience would understand me ? It would be the 
same smart set. 
\He drops dejectedly into a chair and lays down his violin.] 



THE MELTING-POT 151 



PAPPELMEISTER 



Ach, nein. Of course, some — ve can't keep 
peoble out merely because dey pay for deir seats. 

Was? 

\_He laughs^ 

DAVID 

It was always my dream to play it first to the new 
immigrants — those who have known the pain of the 
old world and the hope of the new. 

PAPPELMEISTER 
Try it on the dog. Was ? 
DAVID 

Yes — on the dog that here will become a man ! 

PAPPELMEISTER 

\^Shakes his head.'\ 

I fear neider dogs nor men are a musical breed. 

DAVID 

The immigrants will not understand my music with 
their brains or their ears, but with their hearts and 
their souls. 

VERA 

Well, then, why shouldn't it be done here — on our 
Roof- Garden ? 

DAVID 
\Jumping up.'\ 
A Bas-Kol! A Bas-Kol! 



152 THE MELTING-POT 

VERA 
What are you talking ? 

DAVID 
Hebrew ! It means a voice from heaven. 

VERA 

Ah, but will Herr Pappelmeister consent ? 

PAPPELMEISTER 
\^Bo'wing.'\ 

Who can disobey a voice from heaven ? . . . But 
ven ? 

VERA 

On some holiday evening. . . . Why not the 
Fourth of July? 

DAVID 

\_Still more ecstaticP\^ 

Another Bas-Kol ! . . . My American Symphony ! 
Played to the People ! Under God's sky ! On In- 
dependence Day ! With all the — 

[ Waving his hand expressively, sighs voluphiously^ 
That will be too perfect. 

PAPPELMEISTER 
\_Smili7ig. ] 
Dat has to be seen. You must permit me to invite — 



THE MELTING-POT 1 53 

DAVID 
[/« horror.'^ 
Not the musical critics ! 

PAPPELMEISTER 

[^Raising doth hands with umbrella in equal horror?^ 

Gott bewahre ! But I'd like to invite all de persons 
in New York who really undershtand music. 

VERA 
Splendid ! But should we have room ? 

PAPPELMEISTER 
Room ? I vant four blaces. 

VERA 
\SmilingI\ 
You are severe ! Mr. Davenport was right. 

PAPPELMEISTER 
\_Smiling.'\ 
Perhaps de oders vill be out of town. Also ! 

\Holding out his hand to David.] 
You come to Carnegie to-morrow at eleven. Yes } 
Frdidein. 

\_Kisses her hand^ 

Auf wiederseheii ! 

[Going.'] 

On de Roof-Garden — nic/il zvaJir f 



154 THE MELTING-POT 

VERA 
\S)niling.'\ 
Wind and weather permitting. 

PAPPELMEISTER 

I haf alvays mein umbrella. Was ? Ha ! Ha ! 
Ha! 

VERA 
\^Murmuring.'\ 
Isn't he a darling 1 Isn't he — } 

PAPPELMEISTER 
[^Pausing suddenlyl\ 
But ve never settled de salary. 

DAVID 

Salary ! 

\He looks dazedly from one to the other?[ 

For the honour of playing in your orchestra ! 
PAPPELMEISTER 

Shylock ! ! . . . Never mind — ve settle de pound 
of flesh to-morrow. Lebe woJil ! 

[Exit, the door closes^ 

VERA 

[Suddenly miserable.'^ 

How selfish of you, David ! 

DAVID 

Selfish, Vera ? 



THE MELTING-POT 1 55 

VERA 

Yes — not to think of your salary. It looks as if 
you didn't reatly love me. 

DAVID 

Not love you .-' I don't understand. 

VERA 
\Half in tears ^ 

Just when I was so happy to think that now we 
shall be able to marry. 

DAVID 

Shall we ? Marry .-* On my salary as first violin .-' 

VERA 

Not if you don't want to. 

DAVID 

Sweetheart ! Can it be true } How do you 
know ? 

VERA 
\Smiling.'\ 
r^n not a Jew. I asked. 

DAVID 
My guardian angel ! 
\_Embraci71g her. He sits down, she lovingly at his feet.'\ 

VERA 
\Looking up at him.'] 
Then you do care .'' 



156 THE MELTING-POT 

DAVID 

What a question ! 

VERA 

And you don't think wholly of your music and for- 
get me ? 

DAVID 

Why, you are behind all I write and play ! 

> 

VERA . 

[ With jealous passion. '\ 

Behind ? But I want to be before ! I want you to 
love me first, before everything. 

DAVID 

I do put you before everything. 

VERA 
You are sure ? And nothing shall part us ? 

DAVID 

Not all the seven seas could part you and me. 

VERA 

And you won't grow tired of me — not even when 
you are world-famous — ? 

DAVID 

\_A shade petulant.'^ 

Sweetheart, considering I should owe it all to 
you — 



THE MELTING-POT 1 57 

VERA 

\_Drawitig his head down to her breast'^ 

Oh, David ! David ! Don't be angry with poor 
little Vera if she doubts, if she wants to feel quite 
sure. You see father has talked so terribly, and 
after all I was brought up in the Greek Church, and 
we oughtn't to cause all this suffering unless — 

DAVID 

Those who love us must suffer, and we must suffer 
in their suffering. It is live things, not dead metals, 
that are being melted in the Crucible, 

VERA 

Still, we ought to soften the suffering as much 
as — 

DAVID 

Yes, but only Time can heal it. 

VERA 

[ With transition to happiness.'\ 

But father seems half-reconciled already ! Dear 
little father, if only he were not so narrow about Holy 
Russia ! 

DAVID 

If only my folks were not so narrow about Holy 
Judea ! But the ideals of the fathers shall not be 
foisted on the children. Each generation must live 
and die for its own dream. 



158 THE MELTING-POT 

VERA 

Yes, David, yes. You are the prophet of the liv- 
ing present. I am so happy. 

\She looks tip wis tf idly. '\ 

You are happy, too .-' 

DAVID 

I am dazed — I cannot realise that all our troubles 
have melted away — it is so sudden. 

VERA 

You, David ? Who always see everything in such 
rosy colours ? Now that the whole horizon is one 
great splendid rose, you almost seem as if gazing out 
toward a blackness — 

DAVID 

We Jews are cheerful in gloom, mistrustful in joy. 
It is our tragic history — 

VERA 

But you have come to end the tragic history ; to 
throw off the coils of the centuries. 

DAVID 
\_Smiling again.~\ 

Yes, yes. Vera. You bring back my sunnier self. 
I must be a pioneer on the lost road of happiness. 
To-day shall be all joy, all lyric ecstasy. 

\_He takes up his violin.'] 



THE MELTING-POT 1 59 

Yes, I will make my old fiddle-strings burst with 
joy! 

\He dashes into a jtibilant tarantella. After a few bars 
there is a knock at the door leading from the hall; 
their happy faces betray no sign of hearing it; then 
the door slightly opens, and Baron Revendal's head 
looks hesitatingly in. As David perceives it, his features 
work convulsively, his string breaks with a tragic snap, 
and he totters backward into Vera's arms. Hoarsely^ 

The face ! The face ! 

VERA 

David — my dearest ! 

DAVID 

\_Nis eyes closed, his violin clasped mechanically. '\ 

Don't be anxious — I shall be better soon — I 
oughtn't to have talked about it — the hallucination 
has never been so complete. 

VERA 

Don't speak — rest against Vera's heart — till it 
has passed away. 

[77^1? Baron comes dazedly forzuard, half with a shocked 
sense of Vera's impropriety, half to relieve her of her 
burden. She motions him back.~\ 

This is the work of your Holy Russia. 



l60 THE MELTING-POT 

BARON 

\_Harshly^ 

What is the matter with him ? 

[David's violin and bow drop from his grasp and fall on the 
table.'] 

DAVID 

The voice ! 

\_He opens his eyes, stares frenziedly at the Baron, then 
struggles out of Vera's anns.] 

VERA 
\Trying to stop him.] 
Dearest — 

DAVID 

Let me go. 

\_He moves like a sleep-walker toward the paralysed Baron, 
puts out his hand, and testingly touches the face.] 

BARON 
\_Shuddering back.] 
Hands off! 

DAVID 
[ With a great cry.] 

A-a-a-h ! It is flesh and blood. No, it is stone — 
the man of stone ! Monster ! 

\^He raises his hatid frenziedly.] 



THE MELTING-POT l6l 

BARON 
[ Whipping out his pistol.^ 
Back, dog ! 

[Vera darts between them with a shnek.'] 

DAVID 

\_Frozen again, surveying the pistol stonily.'] 

Ha ! You want my life, too. Is the cry not yet 
loud enough ? 

BARON 

The cry ? 

DAVID 

l^Mystically.'] 

Can you not hear it ? The voice of the blood of 
my brothers crying out against you from the ground ? 
Oh, how can you bear not to turn that pistol against 
yourself and execute upon yourself the justice which 
Russia denies you ? 

BARON 

Tush ! 

[Pocketing the pistol a little shamefacedly.'] 

VERA 
Justice on himself ? For what ? 

DAVID 

For crimes beyond human penalty, for obscenities 
beyond human utterance, for — 



l62 THE MELTING-POT 

VERA 

You are raving. 

DAVID 

Would to heaven I were ! 

VERA 
But this is my father. 

DAVID 

Your father ! . . . God ! 

\_He staggers.'\ 

BARON 

Come, Vera, I told you — 

VERA 

\Frantically, shrinking back.'\ 

Don't touch me! 

BARON 
\Starting back in amdzel\ 
Vera! 

VERA 
\Hoarsely^ 
Say it's not true. 

BARON 

What is not true .-• 

VERA 

What David said. It was the mob that massacred 
— you had no hand in it. 



THE MELTING-POT 1 63 

BARON 
\SuUenlyP[ 
I was there with my soldiers, 

DAVID 
{Leaning, pale, against a chair, hisses] 

And you looked on with that cold face of hate — 
while my mother — my sister — 

BARON 
{Suilenly.'] 
I could not see everything. 

DAVID 
Now and again you ordered your soldiers to fire — 

VERA 

\l7i joyous relief P\ 

Ah, he did check the mob — he didXeSS. his soldiers 
to fire. 

DAVID 

At any Jew who tried to defend himself. 

VERA 

Great God ! 

{She falls on the sofa and buries her head o?i the cushion, 

moaning.] 

Is there no pity in heaven ? 



1 64 THE MELTING-POr 

DAVID 
There was no pity on earth. 

BARON 

It was the People avenging itself, Vera. The 
People rose like a flood. It had centuries of spolia- 
tion to wipe out. The voice of the People is the 
voice of God. 

VERA 

\^Moaning^ 
But you could have stopped them. 

BARON 

I had no orders to defend the foes of Christ 
[ Crossing himself ^^ 
and the Czar. The People — 

VERA 

But you could have stopped them. 

BARON 
Who can stop a flood.'' I did my duty. A soldier's 
duty is not so pretty as a musician's. 

VERA 

But you could have stopped them. 

BARON 

\_Losing all patience.'] 

Silence! You talk like an ignorant girl, blinded 
by passion. ThQ pogrom is a holy crusade. Are we 



THE MELTING-POT 165 

Russians the first people to crush down the Jew? 
No — from the dawn of history the nations have had 
to stamp upon him — the Egyptians, the Assyrians, the 
Persians, the Babylonians, the Greeks, the Romans — 

DAVID 

Yes, it is true. Even Christianity did not invent 
hatred. But not till Holy Church arose were we 
burnt at the stake, and not till Holy Russia arose were 
our babes torn limb from limb. Oh, it is too much ! 
Delivered from Egypt four thousand years ago, to be 
slaves to the Russian Pharaoh to-day. 

\He falls as if kneeling on a chair, and leans his head on the 

rail.^ 

O God, shall we always be broken on the wheel of 
history? How long, O Lord, how long? 

BARON 

l^Savagely.'] 

Till you are all stamped out, ground into your dirt. 

\_Tenderly.^ 

Look up, little Vera! You saw \\o^ papasha loves 
you — how he was ready to hold out his hand — and 
how this cur tried to bite it. Be calm — tell him a 
daughter of Russia cannot mate with dirt. 

VERA 

Father, I will be calm. T will speak without passion 
or blindness. I will tell David the truth. I was never 
absolutely sure of my love for him — perhaps that 



l66 THE MELTING-POT 

was why I doubted his love for me — often after our 
enchanted moments there would come a nameless 
uneasiness, some vague instinct, relic of the long cen- 
turies of Jew-loathing, some strange shrinking from 
his Christless creed — 

BARON 
[ With an exultatit cry.'] 

Ah ! She is a Revendal. 

VERA 

But now — 

[She rises, and walks firmly toward Tikwn?^ 
now, David, I come to you, and I say in the words 
of Ruth, thy people shall be my people and thy 
God my God ! 

\_She stretches out her hands to David,] 

BARON 
You shameless — ! 

\He stops as he perceives David i-emains impassive^ 

VERA 
[ With agojiised cry.] 
David ! 

DAVID 
\_In low, icy tofies.] 

You cannot come to me. There is a river of blood 
between us. 



THE MELTING-POT 1 67 

VERA 

Were it seven seas, our love must cross them. 

DAVID 

Easy words to you. You never saw that red flood 
bearing the mangled breasts of women and the spat- 
tered brains of babes and sucklings. Oh ! 

\He covers his eyes with his hands. The Baron /urns 
away in gloomy impotence. At last David begins to 
speak quietly, almost dreamily. ~\ 

It was your Easter, and the_a ir-was full ofjiolv bells 
and t^ streets of holy proc essions — priests in black 
and girls in white and waving palms and crucifixes, 
and everybody exchanging Easter eggs and kissing 
one another three times on the mouth in token of 
peace and good-will, and even the Jew-boy felt the 
spirit of love brooding over the earth, though he did 
not then know that this Christ, whom holy chants pro- 
claimed re-risen, was born in the form of a brother Jew. 
And what added to the peace and holy joy was that our 
own Passover was shining before us. My mother had 
already made the raisin v/ine, and my greedy little 
brother Solomon had sipped it on the sly that very 
morning. We were all at home — all except my 
father — he was away in the little Synagogue at 
v/hich he was cantor. Ah, such a voice he had — a 
voice of tears and thunder — when he prayed it was 
like a wounded soul beating at the gates of Heaven — 
but he sang even more beautifully in the ritual of 



1 68 THE MELTING-POT 

home, and how we were looking forward to his hymns 
at the Passover table — 

\He breaks down. The Baron has gradually turned round 
under the spell of DAvm's story and now listens hyp- 
notised.'] 

I was playing my cracked little fiddle. Little 
Miriam was making her doll dance to it. Ah, that 
decrepit old china doll — the only one the poor child 
had ever had — I can see it now — one eye, no nose, 
half an arm. We were all laughing to see it caper to 
my music. . . . My father flies in through the door, 
desperately clasping to his breast the Holy Scroll. 
We cry out to him to explain, and then we see that 
in that beloved mouth of song there is no longer a 
tongue — only blood. He tries to bar the door — a 
mob breaks in — we dash out through the back into 
the street. There are the soldiers — and the Face — 

[Vera's eyes involuntarily seek the face of her father, who 
shrinks away as their eyes meet.] 

VERA 
\^In a low sob.~\ 
O God! 

DAVID 

When I came to myself, with a curious aching in 
my left shoulder, I saw lying beside me a strange 
shapeless Something — 

[David points weirdly to the floor, andVis.KA, hunched for- 
wards, gazes stonily at if, as if seeing the horror.] 



THE MELTING-POT 169 

By the crimson doll in what seemed a hand I knew 
it must be little Miriam. The doll was a dream of 
beauty and perfection beside the mutilated mass 
which was all that remained of my sister, of my 
mother, of greedy little Solomon — / Oh ! You Chris- 
tians can only see that rosy splendour on the horizon 
of happiness. And the Jew didn't see rosily enough 
for you, ha! ha! ha! the Jew who gropes in one 
great crimson mist. 

\He breaks down in spasmodic, ironic, long-drawn, terrible 
laughter. '\ 

VERA 
\Trying vainly to tranquillise him.'\ 

Hush, David ! Your laughter hurts more than 
tears. Let Vera comfort you. 

\_She kneels by his chair, tries to put her arms round him.'] 

DAVID 
[^Shuddering.'] 

Take them away ! Don't you feel the cold dead 
pushing between us ? 

VERA 

\_Unfaltering, moving his face toward her lips.] 

Kiss me ! 

DAVID 

I should feel the blood on my lips. 

VERA 

My love shall wipe it out. 



170 THE MELTING-POT 

DAVID 
Love ! Christian love ! 
\_He unwinds her clinging arms ; she sinks prostrate on the 
floor as he rises. ] 

For this I gave up my people — darkened the 
home that sheltered me — there was always a still, 
small voice at my heart calling me back, but I heeded 
nothing — only the voice of the butcher's daughter. 

\BrokenIy^^ 
Let me go home, let me go home. 

\_He looks litigeringly at Vera's prostrate form, hit over- 
coming the instiiict to touch and comfort her, begins tot- 
tering with uncertain pauses toward the door leading 
to the hall.'] 

BARON 
\_Extending his arms in relief ajid longing.] 
And here is your home, Vera ! 
\He raises her gradually from the floor ; she is dazed, but 
suddenly she becofnes conscious of whose arms she is in, 
and utters a cry of repulsion^ 

VERA 
Those arms reeking from that crimson river ! 
\_She falls back.] 

BARON 

[Sullenly^ 

Don't echo that babble. You came to these arms 
often enough when they were fresh from the battle- 
field. 



THE MELTING-POT 171 

VERA 

But not from the shambles ! You heard what he 
called you. Not soldier — butcher ! Oh, I dared to 
dream of happiness after my nightmare of Siberia, 
but you — you — 

\_Slie breaks down for the first time in hysterical sobs ^ 

BARON 
\^Brokenly.'\ 
Vera ! Little Vera ! Don't cry ! You stab me ! 

VERA 
You thought you were ordering your soldiers to 
fire at the Jews, but it was my heart they pierced. 
She sobs onJ] 

BARON 
. . . And my own. . . . But we will comfort each 
other. I will go to the Czar myself — with my fore- 
head to the earth — to beg for your pardon ! . . . 
Come, put your wet face to little father's. . . . 

VERA 
\_Violently pushing his face away.'] 
I hate you ! I curse the day I was born your 
daughter ! 

[^She staggers toward the door leading to the interior. At 
the same moment David, who has i-eached the door 
leading to the hall, now feeling subconsciously that Vera 
is going and that his last reason for lingering on is re- 
moved, turns the door-handle. The click attracts the 
Baron's atte?ition, he veers round.] 



1/2 THE MELTING-POT 

BARON 
\To David.] 
Halt! 

[David turns mechanically. Vera drifts out through her 
door, leaving the two men face to face. The Baron 
beckons to David, who as if hypnotised moves nearer. 
The Baron whips out his pistol, slowly crosses to 
David, who stands as if awaitifig his fate. The 
Baron hands the pistol to David.] 

You were right ! 

\_Ife steps back swiftly with a touch of stern heroism 
into the attitude of the culprit at a military execution, 
awaiting the bullet.~\ 

Shoot me ! 

DAVID 

[ Takes the pistol mechanically, looks long and pensively at it 
as with a sense of its irrelevance. Gradually his arm 
droops and lets the pistol fall on the table, and there his 
hand touches a string of his violin, which yields a little 
note. Thus reminded of it, he picks up the violifi, and 
as his fingers draw out the broken string he murmurs'] 

I must get a new string. 

\_He resumes his dragging march toward the door, repeating 
maunderingly~\ 

I must get a new string. 

[ The curtain falls ^ 



ACT IV 

\_Saturday, July 4, evening. The Roof- Garden of the Set- 
tlement House, showing a beautiful, far-stretching pano- 
rama of New York, with its irregular sky-buildings on 
the left, and the harbour with its Statue of Liberty on 
the right. Everything is wet and gleami?ig after rain. 
Parapet at the back. Elevator on the right. Entrance 
from the stairs on the left. In the sky hang heavy 
clouds through which thin, golden lifies of sunset are Just 
beginning to labour. David is discovered on a bench, 
hugging his violin case to his breast, gazing moodily at 
the sky. A muffled sound of applause comes up from be- 
low and continues with varying intensity through the 
early part of the scene. Through it comes the noise of 
the elevator ascending. Mendel steps out and hurries 
forward.'^ 

MENDEL 

Come down, David ! Don't you hear them shout- 
ing for you ? 

\He passes his hand over the wet bench.'] 

Good heavens ! You will get rheumatic fever ! 

DAVID 
Why have you followed me ? 
MENDEL 

Get up — everything is still damp. 
173 



1/4 THE MELTING-POT 

DAVID 
\_Ristng, gloomily. '\ 
Yes, there's a damper over everything. 

MENDEL 

Nonsense — the rain hasn't damped your triumph 
in the least. In fact, the more delicate effects wouldn't 
have gone so well in the open air. Listen ! 

DAVID 

Let them shout. Who told you I was up here .-• 

MENDEL 

Miss Revendal, of course. 

DAVID 
[^Agitated.'] 
Miss Revendal .? How should she know .? 

MENDEL 
\_Sullenly.'] 
She seems to understand your crazy ways. 

DAVID 
\Passing his hand over his eyes. '\ 

Ah, yott never understood me, uncle. . . . How 
did she look .-' Was she pale .'' 

MENDEL 

Never mind about Miss Revendal. Pappelmeister 
wants you — the people insist on seeing you. No- 
body can quiet them. 



THE MELTING-POT 175 



DAVID 



They saw me all through the symphony in my place 
in the orchestra. 

MENDEL 

They didn't know you were the composer. Now 
Miss Revendal has told them. 

\_Louder applause.'] 

There! Eleven minutes it has gone on — like for 
an office-seeker. You micst come and show yourself. 

DAVID 

I won't — I'm not an office-seeker. Leave me to 
my misery. 

MENDEL 

Your misery .? With all this glory and greatness 
opening before you ? Wait till you're my age — 

\_Shouis of " QuiXANO ! "] 
You hear ! What is to be done with them ^ 

DAVID 

Send somebody on the platform to remind them 
this is the interval for refreshments ! 

MENDEL 

Don't be cynical. You know your dearest wish was 
to melt these simple souls with your music. And 
now — 

DAVID 

Now I have only made my own stony. 



176 THE MELTING-POT 



MENDEL 

You are right. You are stone all over — ever since 
you came back home to us. Turned into a pillar of 
salt, mother says — like Lot's wife. 

DAVID 

That was the punishment for looking backward. 
Ah, uncle, there's more sense to that old Bible than 
the Rabbis suspect. Perhaps that is the secret of our 
people's paralysis — we are always looking backward, 

\He drops hopelessly into an iron garden-chair behind him^ 

MENDEL 
{Stopping him before he touches the seat. ] 

Take care — it's sopping wet. You don't look back- 
ward enough. 

\_He takes out his handkerchief and begins drying the 
chair."] 

DAVID 
\Faintly smiling.] 
I thought you wanted the salt to melt. 

MENDEL 

It is melting a little if you can smile. Do you 
know, David, I haven't seen you smile since that 
Piirim afternoon } 



THE MELTING-POT 1 77 

DAVID 

You haven't worn a false nose since, uncle. 

\He laughs bitterly ?[ 

Ha! Ha! Ha! Fancy masquerading in America 
because twenty-five centuries ago the Jews escaped a 
pogrom in Persia. Two thousand five hundred years 
ago ! Aren't we uncanny } 

\_He drops into the wiped chair^ 

MENDEL 
\_Angrily.'\ 

Better you should leave us altogether than mock 
at us. I thought it was your Jewish heart that drove 
you back home to us ; but if you are still hankering 
after Miss Revendal — 

DAVID 

\Pained^ 
Uncle ! 

MENDEL 

I'd rather see you marry her than go about like 
this. You couldn't make the house any gloomier. 

DAVID 

Go back to the concert, please. They have quieted 
down. 

MENDEL 
\HesitaHng?[ 
And you } 

N 



178 THE MELTING-POT 

DAVID 

Oh, I'm not playing in the popular after-pieces. 
Pappelmeister guessed I'd be broken up with the stress 
of my own symphony — he has violins enough. 

MENDEL 
Then you don't want to carry this about. 
\_Takingthe violui frotn David's arvis^^ 

DAVID 
[ Clinging to it.'\ 
Don't rob me of my music — it's all I have. 

MENDEL 

You'll spoil it in the wet. I'll take it home. 

DAVID 

No — 

\He suddenly catches sight of two figures entering from the left, 
— Frau Quixano and Kathleen clad in their best, and 
wearing tiny American flags iji honour of Independence 
Day. Kathleen escorts the old lady, with the air of a 
guardian angel, on her slow, tottering course toward 
David. Frau Quixano is pufling and panting after 
the many stairs. David jumps up in surprise, releases 
the violin case to Mendel.] 
They at my symphony ! 

MENDEL 

Mother would come — even though, being Shabbos, 

she had to walk. 



THE MELTING-POT lyg 

DAVID 

But wasn't she shocked at my playing on the 
Sabbath ? 

MENDEL 

No — that's the curious part of it. She said, even 
as a boy you played your fiddle on Shabbos, and if 
the Lord has stood it all these years, He must con- 
sider you an exception. 

DAVID 

You see ! She's more sensible than you thought. 
I daresay whatever I had done she'd have considered 
me an exception. 

MENDEL 
\_In sullen acquiescence^ 
I suppose geniuses are. 

KATHLEEN 
\_Reachingthem ; panting with admiration and breathlessness.'] 

Oh, Mr. David ! it was like midnight mass ! But 
the misthress was ashleep. 

DAVID 

Asleep ! 

[^Laughs half -merrily, half -sadly ?^ 
Ha! Ha! Ha! 

FRAU QUIXANO 
[Panting and laughing in respo?ise.^ 
He ! He ! He ! Dovidel lacht widder. He ! He ! 
He! 



l8o THE MELTING-POT 

\^She touches his arm affectionately, but feeling his wet coat 

utters a cry of horror^ 

Dh bist nass ! 

DAVID 

Es ist gar nicht, Miimme — my clothes are thick. 

\_She fusses over him, wiping him dotvn with her gloved 

hand.'] 

MENDEL 
But what brought you up here, Kathleen ? 

KATHLEEN 

Sure, not the elevator. The misthress said 'twould 
be breaking the Shabbos to ride up in it. 

DAVID 
[ Uneasily?^ 
But did — did Miss Revendal send you up .-' 

KATHLEEN 

And who else should be axin' the misthress if she 
wasn't proud of Mr. David .'' Faith, she's a sweet 
lady. 

MENDEL 
\_Impatiently .'\ 

Don't chatter, Kathleen. 

KATHLEEN 

But, Mr. Quixano — ! 

DAVID 
\Sweetly.'\ 
Please take your mistress down again — don't let 
her walk. 



THE MELTING-POT l8l 

KATHLEEN 
But Shabbos isn't out yet ! 

MENDEL 

Chattering again ! 

DAVID 

[ Gently. '\ 

There's no harm, Kathleen, in going down in the 
elevator. 

KATHLEEN 

Troth, I'll egshplain to her that dropping down 

isn't riding. 

DAVID 

\^Smili)ig.'\ 

Yes, tell her dropping down is natural — not work^ 
like flying up. 

[Kathleen begins to move toward the stairs, explaining to 
Frau Quixano.] 

And, Kathleen ! You'll get her some refreshments. 

KATHLEEN 
\ Turns, glaring."] 

Refrishments, is it ? Give her refrishments where 
they mix the mate with the butther-plates ! Oh, Mr. 
David ! 
\_She moves off toward the stairs in reproachful sorrow.] 

MENDEL 
^Smiling.] 
I'll get her some coffee. 



1 82 THE MELTING-POT 

DAVID 
\Smiling^ 

Yes, that'll keep her awake. Besides, Pappelmeis- 
ter was so sure the people wouldn't understand me, 
he's relaxing them on Gounod and Rossini. 

MENDEL 

Pappelmeister's idea of relaxation ! / should have 
given them comic opera. 

[ With sudden call to Kathleen, who with her mistress is at 
the wrong exit."] 

Kathleen ! The elevator's this side ! 

KATHLEEN 
l^Turning.'] 

Sure, how can that be, when I came up this side ^ 

MENDEL 

You chatter too much. 

[Frau Quixano, not understanding, exit.'] 
Come this way. Can't you see the elevator ? 

KATHLEEN 

\_Perceives Frau Quixano has gone, calls after her in Irish- 
sounding Yiddish.'] 

Wo geht IJir, bedad .? . . . 

\Impatiently?[ 

Houly Moses, kormn snrick! 

[Exit anxiously, 7-e-enter with Frau Quixano.] 



THE MELTING-POT 1 83 

Begorra, we Jews never know our way. 

[Mendel, carrying the violin, escorts his another and Kath- 
leen to the elevator. When they are near it, it stops 
with a thud, and Pappelmeister springs out, his um- 
brella up, meeting them face to face. He looks happy 
and beaming over David's triumph^ 

PAPPELMEISTER 
\In loud,joyotis voice ^ 

Nun, Frait Qtiixano, tuas sagen Sie ? Vat you tink 
of your David ? 

FRAU QUIXANO 
Dovid? Er ist vteshiiggah. 

\She taps her forehead.~\ 

PAPPELMEISTER 
\_Puzzled, to Mendel.] 
Meshuggah! WaXvaQdins 'mesh7iggah? Crazy .'' 

MENDEL 
\_H'alf-smiling.~\ 
You've struck it. She says David doesn't know 
enough to go in out of the rain. 

\_General laughter^ 

DAVID 
\_Risi7ig.'\ 
But it's stopped raining, Herr Pappelmeister. You 
don't want your umbrella. 

[ General laughter.'] 



1 84 THE MELTING-POT 

PAPPELMEISTER 

So. 

\_Shuts it down.'] 

MENDEL 
Herein, Mutter. 

\_He pushes Frau Quixano's somewhat shrinking form into 
the elevator. Kathleen /^//<?wj-, then Mendel.] 

Herr Pappelmeister, we are all your grateful ser- 
vants. 
[Pappelmeister bows ; the gates close, the elevator descends.] 

DAVID 
And you won't think me ungrateful for running 
away — you know my thanks are too deep to be 
spoken. 

PAPPELMEISTER 

And zo are my congratulations ! 

DAVID 

Then, don't speak them, please. 

PAPPELMEISTER 
But you must come and speak to all de people in 
America who undershtand music. 

DAVID 

{Half -smiling^ 
To your four connoisseurs .-* 

{Seriously.] 
Oh, please ! I really could not meet strangers, espe- 
cially musical vampires. 



THE MELTING-POT 1 85 

PAPPELMEISTER 
[Half -startled, half-angryj\ 

Vampires ? Oh, come ! 

DAVID 

Voluptuaries, then — rich, idle aesthetes to whom 
art and life have no connection, parasites who suck 
our music — 

PAPPELMEISTER 
\_Laughs good-?iaturedfy J] 
Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! Vait till you hear vat dey say. 

DAVID 
I will wait as long as you like, 

PAPPELMEISTER 

Den I like to tell you now. 

\_IIe roars with mischievous laughter^ 
Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! De first vampire says it is a great 
vork, but poorly performed. 

DAVID 
[^Indignant.l 
Oh! 

PAPPELMEISTER 

De second vampire says it is a poor vork, but 
greatly performed. 

DAVID 
\_Disappointed. ] 
Oh! 



1 86 THE MELTING-POT 



PAPPELMEISTER 



De dird vampire says it is a great vork greatly, 
performed. 

DAVID 

[ Complacently^ 
Ah! 

PAPPELMEISTER 

And de fourz vampire says it is a poor vork poorly 
performed. 

DAVID 

\Angry and disappointed.'\ 
Oh! 

\_Then smilingT^ 

You see you have to go to the people after all. 

PAPPELMEISTER 
\Shakes head, smiling.'] 

Nein. Ven critics disagree — I agree mit mine- 
self. Ha! Ha! Ha! 

\He slaps David on the back.'] 

A great vork dat vill be even better performed 
next time ! Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! Ten dousand congratu- 
lations. 

\_IIe seizes David's hand, and grips it heartily. "] 

DAVID 
Don't ! You hurt me. 



THE MELTING-POT 1 8/ 

PAPPELMEISTER 
\_Droppmg David's hand, — misunderstanding.'^ 
Pardon ! I forget your vound. 

DAVID 

No — no — what does my wound matter? That 
never stung half so much as these clappings and 
congratulations. 

PAPPELMEISTER 

\_Puzzled but solicitous 7\ 

I knew your nerves vould be all shnapping like 
fiddle-strings. Oh, you cheniuses ! 

\Siniling?[ 

You like neider de clappings nor de criticisms, — 
was'? 

DAVID 

They are equally — irrelevant. One has to wrestle 
with one's own art, one's own soul, alone ! 

PAPPELMEISTER 
[Patting him soothingly.'] 
I am glad I did not let you blay in Part Two. 

DAVID 

Dear Herr Pappelmeister ! Don't think I don't 
appreciate all your kindnesses — you are almost a 
father to me. 



1 88 THE MELTING-POT 

PAPPELMEISTER 

And you disobey me like a son. Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! 
Veil, I vill make your excuses to de — vampires. Ha ! 
Ha ! Also, David. 

\_He lays his hand again affectionately on his right shoulderJ] 

Lebe zvohl I I must go down to my popular classics. 

[ Gloomily.'] 

Truly a going down ! Was ? 

DAVID 
\_Siniling.'\ 

Oh, it isn't such a descent as all that. Uncle said 
you ought to have given them comic opera. 

PAPPELMEISTER 

\_Shuddering convulsively.] 

Comic opera. . . . Ouf ! 

\_He goes toward the elevator and rings the bell. Then he 
turns to David.] 

Vat vas dat vord, David .'' 

DAVID 
What word ? 

PAPPELMEISTER 

[ Groping for it.] 
Meera — mep-assku . . . 



THE MELTING-POT 1 89 

DAVID 
'[Puzzled^ 
MegassJiu ? 

\_The elevator comes up ; the gates ope?i.'\ 

PAPPELMEISTER 
Megusshah ! You know. 

\_He taps his forehead with his uifibrella^ 

DAVID 
Ah, meshuggah ! 

PAPPELMEISTER 
[Joyously^ 
J a, meshuggah ! 

\_He gives a great roar of laughter. '\ 
Ha! Ha! Ha! 

\_He waves umbrella at David.] 
Well, don't be . . . meshuggah. 

\_He steps into the elevator.~\ 
Ha! Ha! Ha! 
\The gates close, and it descends with his laughter.'\ 

DAVID 

\_After a patisel\ 

Perhaps I am . . . mesJiuggah. 

\_He walks up and down moodily, approaches the parapet at 
back.'] 



190 THE MELTING-POT 

Dropping down is indeed natural. 

\_He looks overI\ 

How it tugs and drags at one ! 

\He moves back resolutely and shakes his head.'] 

That would be even a greater descent than Pappel- 
meister's to comic opera. One must fly upward — 
somehow. 

[He drops on the chair that Mendel dried. A faint music 
steals up and makes an accompaniment to all the rest 
of the scene.] 

Ah ! the popular classics ! 

[His head sinks on a little table. The elevator comes tip 
again, but he does not raise his head. Vera, pale and 
sad, steps out and walks gently over to him ; stands 
looking at him with maternal pity ; theti decides not to 
disturb him and is stealing away when suddenly he 
looks up and perceives her and springs to his feet with a 
dazed glad cry.] 

Vera ! 

VERA 

[Turns, speaks with grave dignity.] 

Miss Andrews has charged me to convey to you 
the heart-felt thanks and congratulations of the Set- 
tlement. 

DAVID 

[Frozen.] 

Miss Andrews is very kind. ... I trust you are 
well. 



THE MELTING-POT 191 

VERA 
Thank you, Mr. Ouixano. Very well and very 
busy. So you'll excuse me. 

\She turns to go^ 

DAVID 
Certainly. ... How are your folks .-• 

VERA 
\Turns her head.~\ 

They are gone back to Russia, And yours } 

DAVID 

You just saw them all. 

VERA 

[ Confused.'] 
Yes — yes — of course — I forgot ! Good-bye, Mr. 

Quixano. 

DAVID 

Good-bye, Miss Revendal. 

\^He drops back on the bench. Vera walks to the elevator, 
then just before ringing turns again."] 

VERA 
I shouldn't advise you to sit here in the damp, 

DAVID 
My uncle dried the chair. 

{^Bitierly.] 

Curious how every one is concerned about my body 
and no one about my soul. 



192 THE MELTING-POT 



VERA 



Because your soul is so much stronger than your 
body. Why, think ! It has just lifted a thousand 
people far higher than this roof-garden. 

DAVID 

Please don't you congratulate me, too ! That 
would be too ironical. 

VERA 

\_Agitated, coming nearer^ 

Irony, Mr. Quixano .-* Please, please, do not im- 
agine there is any irony in my congratulations. 

DAVID 

The irony is in all the congratulations. How can 
I endure them when I know what a terrible failure 
I have made ! 

VERA 

Failure ! Because the critics are all divided .'' 
That is the surest proof of success. You have pro- 
duced something real and new. 

DAVID 

I am not thinking of Pappelmeister's connoisseurs. 
— / am the only connoisseur, the only one who 
knows. And every bar of my music cried " Fail- 
ure ! Failure ! " It shrieked from the violins, blared 
from the trombones, thundered from the drums. It 
was written on all the faces — 



THE MELTING-POT 193 

VERA 
[ Vehemently, comitig still nearer^ 

Oh, no ! no ! I watched the faces — those faces of 
toil and sorrow, those faces from many lands. They 
were fired by your vision of their coming brother- 
hood, lulled by your dream of their land of rest. 
And I could see that you were right in speaking 
to the people. In some strange, beautiful way the 
inner meaning of your music stole into all those 

simple souls — 

DAVID 

\_Springing t{p.~\ 

And my soul } What of my soul .-' False to its 
own music, its own mission, its own dream. That is 
what I mean by failure, Vera. I preached of God's 
Crucible, this great new continent that could melt up 
all race-differences and vendettas, that could purge 
and re-create, and God tried me with his supremest 
test. He gave me a heritage from the Old World, 
hate and vengeance and blood, and said, " Cast it all 
into my Crucible." And I said, " Even thy Crucible 
cannot melt this hate, cannot drink up this blood." 
And so I sat crooning over the dead past, gloating 
over the old blood-stains — I, the apostle of America, 
the prophet of the God of our children. Oh — how 
my music mocked me ! And you — so fearless, so 
high above fate — how you must despise me ! 

VERA 

I .? Ah no ! 
o 



194 THE MELTING-POT 

DAVID 

You must. You do. Your words still sting. 
Were it seven seas between us, you said, our love 
must cross them. And I — I who had prated of 
seven seas — 

VERA 

Not seas of blood — I spoke selfishly, thoughtlessly. 
I had not realised that crimson flood. Now I see it 
day and night. O God ! 

\She shtidders and covers her eyes,^ 

DAVID 

There lies my failure — to have brought it to your 
eyes, instead of blotting it from my own. 

VERA 

No man could have blotted it out. 

DAVID 

Yes — by faith in the Crucible. From the blood 
of battlefields spring daisies and buttercups. In the 
divine chemistry the very garbage turns to roses. 
But in the supreme moment my faith was found want- 
ing. You came to me — and I thrust you away. 

VERA 

I ought not to have come to you. ... I ought 
not to have come to you to-day. We must not meet 
again. 

DAVID 

Ah, you cannot forgive me ! 



THE MELTING-POT 1 95 

VERA 

Forgive ? It is I that should go down on my knees 
for my father's sin. 

\She is half-sinking to her knees. He stops her by a gesture 
and a cry^ 

DAVID 

No ! The sins of the fathers shall not be visited 
on the children. 

VERA 

My brain follows you, but not my heart. It is heavy 
with the sense of unpaid debts — debts that can only 
cry for forgiveness. 

DAVID 

You owe me nothing — 

VERA 
But my father, my people, my country. . . , 

\_She breaks down. Recovers herself.'] 
My only consolation is, you need nothing. 

DAVID 
\_Dazed.'\ 
I — need — nothing ? 

VERA 

Nothing but your music . . . your dreams. 

DAVID 

And your love .-' Do I not need that } 



196 THE MELTING-POT 

VERA 

\_Shaking her head sadly ^ 
No. 

DAVID 

You say that because I have forfeited it. 

VERA 

It is my only consolation, I tell you, that you do 
not need me. In our happiest moments a suspicion 
of this truth used to lacerate me. But now it is my 
one comfort in the doom that divides us. See how 
you stand up here above the world, alone and self-suffi- 
cient. No woman could ever have more than the 
second place in your life. 

DAVID 

But you have s^q first place, Vera ! 

VERA 
\Shakes her head again.'] 

No — I no longer even desire it. I have gotten 
over that womanly weakness. 

DAVID 
You torture me. What do you mean 1 

VERA 

What can be simpler ? I used to be jealous of your 
music, your prophetic visions. I wanted to come 
first — before them all! Now, dear David, I only 
pray that they may fill your life to the brim. 



THE MELTING-POT 197 

DAVID 

But they cannot. 

VERA 

They will — have faith in yourself, in your mission 
— good-bye. 

DAVID 
\Dazed?\ 
You love me and you leave me ? 

VERA 

What else can I do ? Shall the shadow of Kishineff 
hang over all your years to come ? Shall I kiss you 
and leave blood upon your lips, cling to you and be 
pushed away by all those cold, dead hands ? 

DAVID 
\Taking both her hands. 1 

Yes, cling to me, despite them all, cling to me till 
all these ghosts are exorcised, cling to me till our 
love triumphs over death. Kiss me, kiss me now. 

VERA 
\_Resisting, drawing back.'\ 
I dare not ! It will make you remember. 

DAVID 

It will make me forget. Kiss me. 

\There is a pause of hesitation, filled up by the Cathedral 
music from Faust surging up softly from below.'\ 



198 THE MELTIN'G-POT 

VERA 
\_Slo'wly.'\ 

I will kiss you as we Russians kiss at Easter — the 
three kisses of peace. 

\She kisses him three times on the tnouth as in ritual solem- 
nity.'] 

DAVID 
[ Very calmly.'] 

Easter was the date of the massacre — see ! I am 
at peace. 

VERA 

God grant it endure ! 

\_They stand quietly hand in hand.] 

Look ! How beautiful the sunset is after the storm ! 

[David turns. The sunset, which has begun to gj-ow beauti- 
ful just after Vera's entrance, has now reached its most 
magnificent moment ; below there are narrozv lines of 
saffron and pale gold, but above the whole sky is one 
glory of burning flame.] 

DAVID 
\JProphetically exalted by the spectacle^ 

It is the fires of God round His Crucible. 

\_He drops her hand and points downward.] 

There she hes, the great Melting-Pot — listen ! 
Can't you hear the roaring and the bubbling ? There 
gapes her mouth 



THE MELTTNG-POT 199 

\_He points east^ 

— the harbour where a thousand mammoth feeders 
come from the ends of the world to pour in their 
human freight. Ah, what a stirring and a seething ! 
Celt and Latin, Slav and Teuton, Greek and Syrian, 

— black and yellow — 

VERA 
\^Softly, nestling to him.'] 
Jew and Gentile — 

DAVID 

Y ■>, East and West, and North and South, the palm 
and the pine, the pole and the equator, the crescent 
and the cross — how the great Alchemist melts and 
fuses them with his purging flame ! Here shall they 
all unite to build the Republic of Man and the King- 
dom of God. Ah, Vera, what is the glory of Rome 
and Jerusalem where all nations and races come to 
worship and look back, compared with the glory of 
America, where all races and nations come to labour 
and look forward ! 

\^Ile raises his hands in benediction over the shining eity.J 

Peace, peace, to all ye unborn millions, fated to fill 
this giant continent — the God of our children give 
you Peace. 

\_An instajifs solemn pause. The sunset is swiftly fading, 
and the vast panorama is suffusedwith a more restful twi- 
light^ to which the many-gleaming lights of the town add 



20O THE MELTING-POT 

the tender poetry of the night. Far back, like a lonely, 
beautiful star, twinkles over the da7-kening water the 
torch of the Statue of Liberty. From below comes up 
the softened sotind of voices and instruments joining 
in "My Country^ Uis of Thee." The curtain falls 
slowly^ 



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